


Goat's Head

by Yandere_Shoujo



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Darkness, Drama, Family, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Psuedo 1800's, Rags to Riches, Science Fiction, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yandere_Shoujo/pseuds/Yandere_Shoujo
Summary: Master Xehanort is old and needs someone young and impressionable to leave his legacy to. He doesn't intend to croak before his research is finished, but the dubious scientist would not take any chances. He adopts an orphan from another country to pass everything he knows onto.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And lo, I was struck by inspiration from such a simple fan art. This is set in a time of psuedo 1800's. Edwardian Era fashion, electricity and early 19th century inventions, but no distinct year or absolute time.
> 
> http://sui-sai.tumblr.com/post/171370611077/before-after

Vanitas.

That was the name of the skinny, tanned, gold eyed boy. Xehanort tilted his head as he looked the child up and down. His black hair was an absolute mess of spikes and his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders just as much as his baggy pants seemed to just barely fit on his hips. An elderly nun stood beside him, woefully explaining the child’s history.

Born in the jungle, raised among natives, and then sold into slavery. He’d escaped and fled before making it to St. Alder’s Orphanage. The orphanage sat far away from the city and made it the closest piece of civilization next to an expanse of trees. Xehanort had originally come on an expedition, and a slip in his normally confident gait humbled him.

He had no heir to his fortune, nor any guarantee his research would live on.

“How old is he?”

“Eleven- or at least, that is based from what the good doctor estimated. He’s been with us for a year now. We’ve been so worried that no one would take him in. You see- the older ones, they’re seldom well received.”

Xehanort hummed.

“Is he attached to any of the others?”

“Ah, well- Vanitas is not very… cooperative with the other children.” She cleared her throat. “He is very diligent in his studies though. Almost worryingly so.”

“Oh? Can the boy read and write?”

The woman nodded and clasped her hands together.

“Yes, very well. Sister Tresa instructs all the children in reading and writing. However, Vanitas has been so dedicated to learning. We’ve allowed him to study some of the books in the library on his own.”

Xehanort straightened himself slightly, looking down beneath his nose. Vanitas met his gaze then, staring, unblinking. His gold eyes regarded him with curiosity, and caution.

“It seems to me that you’re quite eager to get rid of him.”

The woman stuttered for a response and Xehanort waved his hand, speaking again.

“This one will do. Let us get started on the paper work.”

* * *

 

The chauffeur placed a stool down and assisted Xehanort into the back of the carriage first. Vanitas eyed the man, then Xehanort, following on his own without assistance. He had no possessions, so leaving immediately wasn’t an inconvenience. But his newfound caretaker was still a stranger and he tread with caution.

 “Boy.”

Vanitas’ head snapped up.

“You lived among the natives yes? What tribe?”

Xehanort wondered if he would even answer as he was quiet for several moments.

“Unda.” He finally said. The carriage rocked with a path of uneven pavement, jostling him. The large shirt had slumped halfway off one shoulder, exposing a bony frame.

“Ah yes, I wasn’t aware your people sold slave labor. I suppose it’s a good thing your former Masters didn’t come looking for you.”

“They can’t.” Vanitas blurted, quickly.

When he didn’t elaborate, Xehanort rolled his hand for him to continue.

Wide eyes blinked rapidly then narrowed. Vanitas wrapped thin arms around himself and looked down to the floor of the carriage.

“I made sure they couldn’t come after me.” At this, his teeth clenched.

Xehanort watched him mumble in his native language angrily. It appeared the boy was going off into his own world, no longer seeing what was around him.

“How tragic.” Xehanort pulled a pocket watch from the breast of his tailcoat and hummed.  “Your speech is surprisingly clear, for a native.”

Putting the watch back, Xehanort snapped his fingers to catch Vanitas’ attention.

“I…” Vanitas hunched his small shoulders forward. “They made me learn how.”

“Your slavers I suppose. Well, you’re still a child; it’s the best time to learn language.”

Xehanort was different. He didn’t regard him with careful sympathy or tiptoe around his past. Vanitas looked him up and down, seeing nothing but wealth and the ideal gentleman.

“It seems I have some molding to do. But first, tell me of your studies.”

Vanitas spent several seconds blinking, trying to grasp how he could be so casual.

“They allowed me to read gospels and words of the Lord, but…”

“Go on.”

“It’s nonsense.” He finished quietly, as though hesitant to speak it aloud.

Xehanort nodded and straightened his back against his seat.

“Do not be ashamed. I will arrange a tutor to give you the education you seek and more.”

Vanitas didn’t respond, choosing to focus out the window and watch whatever caught his eye outside.

* * *

 

The pair became a small spectacle as they entered the hotel. Ladies whispered behind gloved hands and gentlemen raised their eyebrows behind the smoke of their cigars. Xehanort paid them no mind as he hailed someone who had been waiting. The young maid curtsied and Xehanort spoke quietly to her. Vanitas wasn’t watching, instead letting his gaze travel across all the shiny surfaces that could hold his reflection. Vanitas knew a rich man when he saw one, but this…

“Come, boy.”

With a start, he trailed after his new guardian.

The suite was big and Vanitas awkwardly stood at the door after it had been closed.

Incense burned atop a polished table, making everything smell like some kind of wood and spices. The suite resembled more of an actual house with two couches facing each other, separated by a long table. There were plush seats in every place that could be convenient, and an archway separated another room. Hard wood was covered by a large rug, and paintings hung on display. The room was brightly lit from the four evenly spaced windows displaying a view of the city outside. Looking up, Vanitas eyed the crystal chandelier the size of a watermelon. Everything was so regal, rich in color, and had some semblance of silver or gold embroidery.

Xehanort had taken to sitting down in one of the sofas, cracking his back with a wince and looking to Vanitas.

“Come closer.”  
Doing as he was told, Vanitas tried not to touch anything. Beside the couch, he inched closer until he was just a foot apart from Xehanort. He didn’t meet the man’s stare, instead locking eyes with himself on the surface of a silver polished flower vase. He’d never felt so out of place.

Thin, gloved fingers grasped him firmly by the shoulder and Vanitas flinched.

With a gentle shake, they made eye contact.

“There will be none of that in my house I can assure you. From now on you are my son. I expect you to act like it. What you do represents me and I won’t have you slouching or staring into space, is that clear?”

Vanitas’ eyes threatened to avert to a corner but he squinted and held them still.

“Yes.”

Xehanort grinned with his teeth.

“Good.”


	2. Chapter 2

Later in the prior day, Vanitas had been delivered clothes to sleep in and something to wear for the next day. It didn’t compare to Xehanort’s tailcoat, vest, scarf and tailor made pants, but it was still impressive. Two handmaids assisted him with getting ready. Early mornings were not a problem for him, but usually his day started with waking up, and going straight to a book. Food was sparse already with all the other children, so he only truly cared about dinner.

Instead, he was given the hottest bath he’d ever taken in a bathroom full of white porcelain. His fight against their experienced hands was for naught.

Vanitas wasn’t sure if he should have been irritated when the two maids looked at the tub after it was drained. They struggled with his hair for half an hour, brushing, tying, re-tying, and giving up when his spikes refused to sit down. Only a single small ponytail could be held down in the back.

In the full length of mirror, he looked at himself in his blouse, vest and slacks and never thought clothing could feel so soft on his skin. That feeling lasted seconds before he was quickly hurried off to a dining room within Xehanort’s suite. At a square table, Xehanort patiently waited. Vanitas sat across from him and gave a long, confused stare at the dishes before him.

On reflex, he raised his hands in prayer but Xehanort shook his head.

“No need for that boy. What good is it if your heart isn’t in it?”

Vanitas hesitated, and looked back down to his plate of meats, bread, eggs, and side dishes of sliced fruit. His brows were furrowed as though he was asked to eat a foreign object. Xehanort had already placed a cloth over himself and begun cutting his sausages. Vanitas tried to go for the eggs before hearing a chastising, “No not yet.”

Xehanort tapped the napkin on his chest and Vanitas clumsily tried to emulate. It was slightly crinkled, and not nearly as neat. Embarrassed now, he smoothed it out to his best ability and started at the eggs again. Normally the best utensil he had was a wooden spoon or tin fork. The shining silver tools felt too big and too heavy in his hands, but he tried his best.

If Xehanort was displeased, he said nothing and ate his meal silently. Vanitas got through half of an egg before realizing the meat would be easier to handle. Fumbling as he did, it didn’t detract from the taste that flooded his mouth. The textures practically melted in his mouth, the bread was the freshest he’d ever had, and the water was so clean and cold. Not used to eating so much, he’d barely finished half before the food looked less appetizing as he first started.

Xehanort didn’t seem concerned and after finishing his own breakfast, he neatly patted his mouth.

“I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll have a proper course set when we reach the manor.”

The remainder of the day was a rush of movement and confusion for Vanitas.

Their first stop was a tailor. Vanitas was already tired of other people touching him so much and the old woman poked and prodded at him with professional indifference. Different cloths in different colors were pressed against his chest and the side of his face. It had begun to tire him as he was made to stand in awkward positions with his arms up or out as she took notes and had an assistant skitter around for what they demanded.

Despite all the turning and mind whirling action, they left with a single box of clothing the chauffer placed in a trunk space and moved on.

A doctor’s office was one of the last placed he’d have expected next.

Vanitas looked away from the man in front of him for the most part. Dr. Luo, the man who initially gave him care apparently had his office within the city. He seemed fond of him, affectionately patting his head and chatting idly with Xehanort. But Vanitas hated everything about the place. Syringes of different sizes were treated as art in a display case, and the diagrams of human anatomy made Vanitas feel like he too would be split in half and looked at.

“I suppose it was fate that you would find possibly the one single child with gold eyes a world away.” The man chuckled, shining a bright light into Vanitas’ face.

“Yes, quite a curiosity he is. I have high hopes for him.”

Vanitas stole a glance to Xehanort only to be instructed to look up and to the side. He’d been asked questions, examined and checked all over for signs of anything that could have been missed while at the orphanage. It was exhausting, and when stepping back into the carriage, Vanitas would have liked to shut both windows and just nap.

Their next destination was a book store.

“You enjoy reading, do you not?” Xehanort asked, as though sensing Vanitas’ thoughts.

He nodded.

“You will use your words. Yes, or no?”

“I-yes.” Vanitas managed. Heat crept up his neck. He knew how to talk, he just didn’t like doing so.

Xehanort began walking forward.

“You’ll be putting that skill to use. A tutor can teach you, but there are many things that cannot be taught. The knowledge of books can be interpreted many different ways. Here you will be getting books of your very own to build on that, as well as a journal.”

“A... journal?” Vanitas searched for a possible reason to have one.

“I did not become the man I am today by simply leaving all I’ve learned to memory. I will not read it, but I expect you to do the same.”

* * *

 

The sun had trailed most of its journey across the sky by the time they returned to the hotel. Xehanort had his own stops to make along the way and Vanitas already busied himself with the thinnest of the books he was allowed to pick out. Xehanort didn’t express displeasure at any of his selections, nor exact approval.

He was halfway done by the time they had walked to the lobby and Xehanort’s servants handled all the accumulated baggage.

Vanitas’ room was separate from the main suite. The oily mess he’d left had been cleaned spotless in the bathroom. Begrudgingly, he allowed himself to be scrubbed clean again and the maids didn’t even try to tame his hair, styling it just as they did in the morning.

Re-dressed for dinner, Vanitas joined Xehanort in the dining room and while he was hungry from such a busy day, he really would have liked to sleep.

The smell of food roused him somewhat from his drowsiness and the bowl of soup filled with chunks of meats and vegetables made his nose flare.

“Dr. Lou suggested a steady diet for now. Soup with all the nutrients.” Xehanort’s bowl consisted of soup as well, though side dishes of more solid food. “It’s unhealthy being that thin, boy. I won’t fatten you but I will not have you malnourished. Eat.”

Remembering to place the napkin over himself, Vanitas dug in.

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 1,_

_My new guardian, my father I guess, told me to write about the things I learned. I suppose that makes sense, since I wrote what Sister Tresa told us to._

_The book I started reading was some sort of journal on light and darkness in people’s hearts. I think it was supposed to be like the Word the sisters made us all read. Religion doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. My people, the people who sold me. They told me all kinds of things about where we came from and how what we do affects how we die. But when they sold me I_

_This was supposed to be about my book. I’m running out of space on this page. I guess I learned that you don’t need to believe everything people tell you to believe._


	3. Chapter 3

After proving he didn’t need help bathing with a feat of flexibility, the maids gave up on trying to scrub him. Dressing him was a battle he would not win.

The following week passed quietly, but Vanitas was still alert. Life of the rich was the most foreign thing he’d experienced in his life. This extended to his newfound lack of hair after a trip to a barber.

Impossible to tame spikes had been trimmed to something manageable and his head felt lighter, and air flowed coolly on his scalp. It wasn’t unpleasant, nor was it exactly a welcome feeling. They spent their last day at the hotel quietly, and departed for Xehanort’s home. Vanitas read through his smallest books first during the journey, making notes of interest in his journal and answering Xehanort’s questions when asked. Talking between them never fell into casual conversation which was perfectly fine by Vanitas. His mind was often in awe of his surroundings until they got old, like the massive ship and vastness of the sea.

When they reached port, the dresses of ladies and glimmering of shiny trinkets kept his gaze aloft. The Sisters kept their rooms sparse, and the nicest thing to look at was the stain glass of the small church.

The jungle was vast and colorful as well. Fading memories of face paint, vases and beaded jewelry floated in front of his eyes, but they didn’t have gold. Vanitas blinked down the bubbling pool of emotion welling in his stomach

After a long ride down a path of fenced off hedges, Vanitas looked from his book once more when he saw his new home.

 Xehanort said he lived in a manor, but his estate resembled a castle. Past a circular court with a fountain at its center, Vanitas stared at the expanse of grass neatly segmented in four squares. At the center of each stood different statues spewing water from their mouths and the massive stone building loomed at the edges.

Three tiers of windows glinted in the high noon sun. Coned roofs of dark grey contrasted to the lighter grey of the brick and stone walls. An elegant entranceway paved with black marble was likely as wide as twenty feet. Upon the large wooden doors were two steel heads of goats with rings in their mouths.

The carriage came to a stop and a grinning man with slicked back hair and butler’s uniform greeted them with a less than formal wave. Red splashing across his neck in the shape of a scarf further cemented his casual disposition.

“Master Xehanort, you’re back! And here I was thinking about throwing a party.” The man snapped his fingers twice and both doors were held open.

“Enough of that Braig.” Xehanort chastised, though without any heat behind his words.

Upon seeing the head of black spikes the man’s eyebrow raised.

“So this is the kid? Well he sure has your eyes.” Braig gave a sweeping bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance young master.”

The sudden show of formality was such a dramatic shift Vanitas stiffened. It was gone when he stood straight once more and patted his back.

“Well, least you’re not a baby. Not good with those.”

Vanitas cringed and looked to Xehanort for any way to handle this situation but the man was already walking inside.

“Do show him to his quarters. I trust they’ve been prepared?”

“You know it Master. Alright, this way.”

Vanitas gave one last look to Xehanort, and allowed himself to be lead through the halls.

Braig’s fast pace didn’t allow him to really take in the interior. To say the least, it was big and impressive. At the top floor, Vanitas took in where he would live.

Beside a rounded segment of the wall sat a table with a vase of lavender at its center. Two plush chairs were placed at opposing ends, and if someone looked over, they could overlook the entire yard from the large, arched windows. Shelves, mostly empty or having miscellaneous decorations, lined the wall next to it. Vanitas would surely fill the currently empty book case eventually.

At the center of the room, against the wall, was a king sized bed. Several feet away, Vanitas found a door on an adjacent wall. Just as he stepped toward it, he remembered the other man who had not moved.

Cautiously, Vanitas watched Braig who watched him in turn.

Braig relaxed his posture and held his hands in mock surrender.

“Don’t mind me.”

Vanitas minded him very much but he didn’t comment, instead opening the door to discover the bathroom. The bathtub against the wall even had a shower. A circular rug was put before a vanity with a large mirror. Stepping out, he stared at the dark wood of the clothing dresser and experimentally opened the compartment for hanging clothes.

It was unbelievable. So much so that Vanitas wasn’t sure if he was suddenly dreaming. A part of him was scared. Scared that he would wake up. Another part of him was worried this was all some sort of trick. His wide, gold eyes flicked to Braig with distrust and the man grinned, making the sinking feeling in his stomach worse.

“A lot to take in I guess? Heh, once you clean of these rooms it feels even bigger.” Braig folded his arms behind his back and brought his height up with that unsuspecting formality Vanitas never saw coming.

“My Master is very busy and he has tasked me with overseeing many of the finer details of adjusting to your new home.” His posture slouched. “I wouldn’t get too comfy. You’ve got a long week ahead.”

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 6_

_I didn’t read much today. I was getting used to my room, which is as big as a house. The estate doesn’t feel like a home. The servants keep staring at my eyes like it’s some big surprise. My tribe had lots of people with gold eyes. Mine were the brightest, they said it was luck. Maybe I’m lucky?_

_It should be ok to write about. Xehanort- my father-Master Xehanort-_

_I’m not sure what to call him. I had a real father, but he’s not anymore. He doesn’t own me like the slavers did, so he’s not really my Master. His name doesn’t feel right either._

_He said reflection was important, as long as you don’t start to doubt yourself. So I guess I’ll reflect here._


	4. Chapter 4

Braig was right, he was having a long week.

After an academic assessment, his tutor focused on history, mathematics and science. When those lessons ended, a large man appeared to toss a wood sword at him. Dilan, one of Xehanort’s guardsmen, would be his combat instructor. Vanitas didn’t know why he would possibly need to use a sword, unless he would join the army at some point. He had no time to think on it either as the man never let up an inch. If he wasn’t clumsily swinging a sword, he was being forced to exercise until his limbs shook.

“Again.” It was a bored sounding command. Dilan wasn’t cruel, not exactly. He showed no remorse when seeing Vanitas’ face after knocking the hilt of his sword on his nose. The teeth baring snarl on his lips did nothing to dissuade him and Vanitas was forced  to fix his mistakes one painful step at a time.

The training room was large and empty save for racks of different swords carefully away from everything else. Though even with the open space, Vanitas tripped and felt as though the walls were tight as he was pushed back constantly.

The soreness in his arms and legs made his lessons in etiquette all the more painful. If it weren’t for Braig leading him through the often confusing halls of the manor, he was sure he would get lost in a hazy cloud of pain.

Picking the wrong utensil earned him a slap on his hand with a ruler, which was already aching from being whacked with a wood sword.

By night, Vanitas didn’t read any of the books he picked out. A large package of clothing and essentials just for him came and bit by bit he gave them a home. Journal entries were kept short, and sleep came fast.

* * *

 

Vanitas sat in bed. His room was cast in a blue tint from the early morning light and he stared down at his hands. He was still so thin. Xehanort was thin too, but in a different way. His fingers didn’t look like they lacked strength. Experimentally, Vanitas curled each digit slowly in and out. He winced.

Every last piece of him was aching in some way.

It was Sunday. Around this time, he would normally be getting ready for church.

He had no lessons planned, and there would be no training either.

With pained steps, he stood before the full length mirror next to the dresser and looked himself over. Gold eyes stared back and trailed down to his frail body, still in his night clothes. He couldn’t see all of the still healing bruises, but he could feel them.

Was this what noble children lived like?

The thought didn’t seem quite right as he’d only heard the other children talk about them as though they were born perfect. The tales of faraway princes riding on white stallions made perfect sense after all. You were born rich, guaranteed a happily ever after, and just knew everything.

Still uncomfortable with calling the man by any title, Vanitas found himself speaking immediately to Xehanort.

“Why do I need to learn how to use a sword?”

The dining room they ate meals in was smaller, meant for no more than four people. At the circular, cloth covered table, Vanitas put his utensils down and placed his hands in his lap, mindful of his posture.

“Aah, this is a surprise. You went into your training without question.”

Vanitas tried to hold his gaze, but it fell to the half-eaten plate of food.

“I didn’t expect to become a soldier.”

“And I’m not sending you off to war.”

The younger looked up. Xehanort took another long chew of his food and swallowed.

“The other nobility,” Xehanort shook his head as though in disappointment. “They allow themselves to grow fat and ignorant. Like swine. But you, I will not let that happen to you. My successor will be worthy of my name.”

“Worthy?” Vanitas repeated.

Xehanort put down his knife and fork.

“Wisdom comes from many places.  A strong body and a sharp mind can be the ultimate weapon.  Not to mention…” He waved his hand as though in dismissal. ”No man of wealth is without enemies. Defending oneself is essential.”

Vanitas wasn’t completely sure what to think, but he was all the more curious.

“Can you fight?”

“Me?” he chuckled. “Now why would you think a withering old man like me could put up any fight?”

“You said a strong body and a sharp mind. Then I could be worthy. So- doesn’t that mean you already have both?”

Xehanort’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a smile.

“Perhaps if your training goes well, I may show you.”

* * *

 

The following week still hurt, but a lot less. Vanitas didn’t want to keep getting hit, so he did better at avoiding it. Though it still wasn’t good enough. Memorizing the confusing array of knives and forks was slow, but progressing.

Xehanort kept himself sparse, only meeting with Vanitas during meals or watching him every other day or so.

Wake up, get ready, be tutored, train, be whacked with a ruler, and learn the interior of the manor bit by bit.

Life in his new home burrowed its familiarity under his skin with the aches of training and acceptance of who he was now. If his head hurt, it was from being knocked upside it, not hunger.

Several weeks passed this way until the bruises hurt less, and he’d memorized each floor. The servants stopped gazing at his eyes over time, and he’d come to learn their faces. A particularly chatty one talked about the Master, the other servants, and the house’s history. She was likely the youngest he’d seen and probably close to his age. But she talked a mile a minute and it was hard keeping up with who was who.

They bowed, he ignored them.

Aside from Braig, he never bothered learning their names. Though in his head, he’d remember the maid’s name as “Omelet.”

Seeing that he was getting comfortable with his training, Xehanort tacked on even more. Vanitas began to memorize the exterior of the manor as well, given that he had to run its large perimeter. It was the first time he’d actually taken a good look at the back yard besides seeing it out a window.

At least ten acres of land sprawled before him in a rectangular yard. A separate house that was of a similar design, but only two stories, must have been where the servants stayed. It looked to be a small walk away, and had been obscured in the beauty of gardens, a gazebo, statues and trees that speckled into a forest. The perimeter, like the front, was guarded with a pointed fence.

Vanitas couldn’t idle and admire for too long, there was no telling what Dilan would do to him. So with sweat pouring down his face, he kept moving.

If it weren’t for hand maids glaring daggers and forcing him to bathe before dinner, he would have skipped. Lessons in dinner and posture escalated to speech and politics. It was possibly harder to memorize than what the gossiping maid talked about.

Xehanort showed no sympathy to his trembling hands when trying to cut a piece of chicken nor the way his glass of water shook when handling with the best of his care. It would have been so much easier to plant his face onto the plate.

Braig’s unpredictable demeanor was likely the only comfort Vanitas would get.

“Man, you’re really getting worked to the bone! Though if soldiers got your kind of training I don’t think there’d be any country willing to mess with us.”

Vanitas was never sure if he was being mocked or not, but as it were, he was the only employee seemingly not trying to bleed him dry. He would keep holding on, though. The pain was different from how his former masters treated him. Being struck with the blunt side of a sword was different from a whip.

The thoughts were pushed down. He wasn’t a slave anymore. And if being knocked around during training would remind him, then he’d take the punishment.

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 18_

_I’m so tired. I managed to finish “History of the Foretellers.” The tutor barely talked about it, but it seemed important. A massive war was fought all because someone placed doubt into a small group of people. The Grand Maester must have had one of those sharp minds Xehanort talks about. I don’t think there was a traitor in the end._

_If I could get people to do what I wanted with just words, then life would be a lot more fun._


	5. Chapter 5

Vanitas’ mind and body were often so spent during the week that by Sundays, he only wanted to hole up in his room and read. But the prospect of exploration invigorated him. It was chilly, so he wore a dark grey overcoat before setting out.

The sky was still somewhat dark, but the visibility was enough to see. Two guards kept watch. One walked through the white stone paved path, nodding to Vanitas in greeting. The other paced atop a balcony, rifle at his back.

Immediately in front of him was a low fountain and short hedge wall. Flowers of every kind surrounded it and he walked to the path leading right. Shrubs and bushes of colorful flora littered the sides of the path, with perfectly cut grass just behind. A table with a large parasol sat in the center. Walking closer, Vanitas took note of the small stone fountain that was inactive.

Further down the path was what appeared to be an arboretum, and a greenhouse closer to it. It was no wonder everything was so fresh. Multitudes of fruits and vegetables were currently unripe, but it appeared Xehanort had everything grown at the manor. Vanitas retraced his steps back and followed a different path to the left. The statues he spotted were graves. The plot of grass had the most flowers around it. A stone knight with a helm in the shape of a goat’s head stood proud above two slabs of marble marked with gold names. Vanitas supposed he’d also be buried somewhere in this yard.

He took another look around and listened to the fountain in the distance and early morning birds chirping. At least it was a nice, quiet place.

Crossing back to the middle path, he looked up to the giant tree at the yard’s center and beyond it the gazebo. Vanitas figured he would go there last given how far away it was.

Another grave was set in its own plot of green and Vanitas ignored it for the pond a few yards away. He could see fish swimming within, also likely to be eaten at some point.

Five minutes of walking brought him to the servant’s house and he watched as a few maids exited the front door to begin a day of work. The sight of Vanitas startled them and they quickly curtsied.

“Good morning young master!” they fumbled and quickly walked in the direction to the manor.

Curiously, he walked around to the back of the house and found lines of laundry well out of view from the manor, and a young maid hunched over a washing board, scrubbing what looked like a particularly stubborn stain.

The movement of him walking caught her eye and she nearly dropped the article into the water of the wood basin. Brown hair tied into two neat braids, bright green eyes.

“Omlette.”

The girl was silent for several seconds and her posture dropped significantly.

“Young Master, my name is Olette.”

“Right.” Vanitas might not even remember by the end of the day. “How many of you stay here?”

Olette resumed her scrubbing and talked as she worked.

“Eighteen of us. The ladies quarters are on the first floor, and the men are in the second.”

Vanitas looked at the windows and size of the house. It must have been as tight packed as the orphanage or close.

“Rather small for that many people.”

“It can feel that way sometimes. But as long as we think of ourselves as one big family, then we pull through.”

Vanitas began walking towards the back door entrance and Olette made a strange noise.

“Oh, wait! Young Master, you can’t!”

Vanitas turned back, one eyebrow raised.

The stained cloth had temporarily been given up on as the girl wiped her hands on her apron and stood.

“I mean, you shouldn’t. You’re- well. You’re above us.”

Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked almost scared. Vanitas shrugged.

“Well since I’m above you, then you can’t stop me.”

The startled squeak she made was kind of funny. Vanitas crossed the threshold and observed the interior. Olette was fumbling for a way to get him to reconsider but he ignored her. Immediately he stepped into a kitchen with a long table and two benches. The few servants eating their breakfast choked or seemed unable to cope with the mere idea that Vanitas would enter their home.

Olette quickly explained the situation and attempted to stand in front of Vanitas. He brushed her aside by her shoulder and she sighed, realizing he was not going to leave.

For such humble living, it was still nice.

Vanitas silently admired that each of the two bedrooms held two sturdy bunk beds. No one needed to sleep in a creaking cot or share. Most of the staff was already up and moving so the ladies rooms were empty.

“If this is just for servants, where do the guards stay?” he asked, waiting for Olette to give him the clear to go into the wash room. That was one place she would not budge from the entrance to.

“They have their own rooms in the manor as well as the head chef, and Sir Braig.”

A nervous maid curtsied and hurried to the direction of the back door.

Steam dampened Vanitas’ skin as the door to the room was opened completely. Olette was beet red in the face as he stepped inside and observed the multiple showers. A pang of jealousy hit him and he wasn’t sure why. True, he had moved on from the orphanage, but it was just so luxurious in comparison.

Going upstairs, Olette seemed hesitant to follow but bit her lip and kept moving. The men’s quarters were exactly the same and he could see how so many people could fit into a single home.

Satisfied, Vanitas headed to the front door and cringed at the sudden burst of sunlight.

“Thanks for the tour.” He casually tossed back.

“It was my pleasure.” Olette mumbled out, seemingly ready to drop to her knees on the spot.

Following the central path, Vanitas headed to his last stop, the gazebo. The walk was likely ten minutes.

The octagon pavilion was raised on a platform of stone and drapes were tied open to its posts. At the center was a chess table and two benches with plush seating.. From here, he could see the forest at the edge of the open field. The gazebo was farther from the rush of the fountain, and the sound of just nature were all the more prominent.

Yeah, a nice place to be buried.

“Damn beast, where are you?!”

Vanitas’ head whipped in the direction of the voice and he saw one of the guardsmen jogging in his direction. Something black darted past the pavilion and the guard stood straight, looking around. Whatever it was, he seemed bent on finding it.

“Young Master, have you seen a cat by chance?”

So that’s what it was.

“No.” he lied.

The guard wiped his gloved hand across his face.

“Nothing but trouble. They seem to be drawn to the plants here like locusts.”

The guard grumbled to himself and bowed, turning around to search elsewhere.

Vanitas walked in the direction he saw the thing run and it froze when Vanitas spotted it. Lowering himself to a squat, he reached out his hand.

The cat’s eyes flickered at the movement but it stayed still.

Locking eyes, Vanitas didn’t move either.

“T.” he pressed his lounge to the roof of his mouth and released.

“T.T.”

“Mraower…” it responded, quietly.

The exchange went back and forth. Vanitas wasn’t sure what it was saying, but it was certainly trying to communicate.

Faster, Vanitas ticked, experimenting with different frequencies as though turning the dial on a radio until something clear came through.

Somewhere in their conversation, the cat deemed whatever Vanitas ticked as sign of good will and approached. It sniffed the tips of his fingers for several seconds, and rubbed its head against his palm.

“You must be tired if you ran all the way across the yard. But I can relate to a scary man chasing me.”

The cat looked up to him. Pitch black pupils stood contrasted by white sclera. It was small, and looked to be a kitten.

When Vanitas scratched it on its forehead, it purred loudly.

He was going to keep it.

* * *

 Vanitas normally never sought out Xehanort so he sat and waited with the bundle of black fur in what was formerly a maid’s apron. If Braig was Xehanort’s primary servant, then Omelet was now his. The way her resolve melted as his command was pretty funny. He’d instructed her to get a specific book from the library in his room, and she did. Her brown bangs clung slightly to her forehead as she had to traverse all the way to the top floor and back. The stain had refused to come out in the end and Vanitas waited on a bench with his new companion until it dried. He took it and wrapped Void inside.

The cat’s eyes were like an abyss threatening to suck him in, so the name stuck.

Knowing the man wouldn’t be too happy about being disturbed, he waited with Void in a love seat next to the hall leading to the basement.

Before Xehanort could speak Vanitas stood.

“I’d like a book on taking care of him.”

The older man was silent at the immediate request and looked down to the cat.

“If it scratches the furniture, it is to be drowned.”

* * *

Before Vanitas had several guides on cats, Void had to stay outside and Olette was given absolute care. The glare she failed to smother when finally being able to hand the cat back could likely burn holes in his skull.

Shredding of wood hit his ear. And he cringed.

In his bed, he looked up from his book to see Void staring back at him.

The wood scratching post he constructed himself was to satisfy the thing’s ever present need to destroy and the sound was always grating.

“I’m trying to read.” Vanitas shot.

“Mraaaaw!”

He glared. He was positive Void couldn’t understand him, but part of him had the slight suspicion he understood tone.

“Listen you little-”

Clopping of a horse’s shoes caught his ear.

In the front yard a man emerged from a carriage and tipped his large top hat to Xehanort. Vanitas wasn’t told they would be having a guest. Curious now, he watched them talk for two minutes before the man looked up and grinned his way.

Violet eyes pierced his own and he felt as though something cold was crawling up his skin. Despite his unease, Vanitas inspected him further. Dark skin, lanky limbs, and a purple tailcoat that seemed to elongate him further. Xehanort too looked up his way and grinned, gesturing to Vanitas’ window. His words were muted from the outside. The dark skinned man seemed pleased at whatever he was saying as they walked inside together.

His identity remained a mystery that would have to be solved another time. The only thing Xehanort told him was that he was called Dr. Falicier.

Days continued to pass with little view of the world outside of the estate. The mysterious stranger popped in every several weeks, and back out before night fall. Xehanort stayed in his lab more, often missing dinner. Breakfasts were often quiet. Any questions towards the dark doctor were thwarted or brushed aside until Vanitas gave up.

Tutoring had been his only real gate out, occasionally a servant needing to leave to retrieve something. Still uncomfortable with talking to them, Omelet fulfilled the role.

Vanitas was sure that she resented him, but her puffy cheeks were funny and he felt a tingle of glee when she’d turn a certain shade of angry red.

Seeing his newfound curiosity, Xehanort suggested he read a newspaper, which was convenient because Void tore the thing to shreds when he finished. With a workshopped box and a bit of cleaning supplies the remains were repurposed as a toilet that sat in a corner of the bathroom. Cat care had been an annoying handful but it beat the need to escort Void down to the yard or fear having piss everywhere.


	6. Chapter 6

Three months passed and he’d gotten faster, stronger and smarter.

Vanitas stared at his bare stomach in the vanity after getting out of the bath. Wiping away some fog showed more muscle than he remembered having. It’d taken awhile to stop seeing a skeletal frame on his skin, and build up real muscle mass. Dilan trained in a loose, sleeveless blouse and pants. Vanitas could see the clear bulk of his arms and he wondered if his would get that big. As his arms were now, they were nowhere close.

He trailed his fingers over the ridges of his stomach. They were hard. Some part of him felt a swell of pride.

He was certainly getting the strong body part down.

During training Xehanort made occasional, always silent appearances. Dilan’s superior skill outclassed him by leagues, but when he was hit, he retaliated back.

* * *

 

Dilan was a merciless when attacking. His grip on the sword was shaky enough, and he switched to a hanging guard that seemed to come naturally. This only seemed to encourage the man and he struck faster. But if his grin was to go by, Vanitas was doing something right.

Xehanort clapped his hands slowly and they stopped. Braig was behind him, and wordlessly took his vest and scarf. Vanitas stepped back and watched as he picked a wood sword closer to his liking and stood in a casual stance.

For the first time, Vanitas saw an emotion other than aggression or scowling on his features. For a single moment, Dilan looked uncertain.

“Are you sure, Master Xehanort?”

Vanitas realized that this was what he’d been waiting for, and he must have been improving after all.

“Quite. Now come, don’t hold back. I’ll be able to tell.”

Dilan took a short, deep breath from his nose and charged. Vanitas was sure if he stood any closer a gust of wind may have knocked him over. Xehanort’s eyes displayed no fear or anxiety. The first strike was effortlessly blocked. It was as though he knew where the man would strike. Vanitas focused entirely on Xehanort as he side stepped, parried, or held his stance. He wasn’t moving fast, which confused Vanitas even more.

They separated, Dilan circling slowly, and Xehanort seemingly challenging him with just his eyes. His body did not turn, only his head.

Vanitas then noticed he was only using one hand.

The moment Dilan rushed forward again from behind, Xehanort turned and disarmed Dilan, sending the sword flying against a wall. It landed with a clunk and Dilan raised his hands in surrender as Xehanort’s was at his throat.

Their spar was over.

It was unreal. Vanitas recognized that he was getting stronger, but just how strong was he?

He scanned the eldest man’s body, trying to find any physical sign of his strength, but only saw an old man rolling his shoulders and placing a wood sword back in its place. When Braig offered him his vest, he shook his head and looked down to Vanitas.

“Remember what I told you.”

Dilan regained his composure after Xehanort left and slowed his heavy breathing.

The show of power earned Vanitas more than a few whacks when reciting greetings. His instructor seemed especially peeved at his lack of concentration, but it was hard to not replay the match in his head.

WHACK

Vanitas grimaced as the ruler slapped right across the back of his neck. The frown on his instructor’s face was possibly deeper than his own.

Right, he couldn’t let his mind wonder.

* * *

 

Fall crept closer and closer and Vanitas sat beside the main kitchen stove in the servant’s quarters, focusing on his book and using the boil of water in the hanging black pot as background noise.  The manor did have a sitting room with a fireplace, plus his own room. It did not have much noise, which irked him.

Vanitas liked the quiet, but absolute silence in itself was a distraction. A music box wouldn’t do, and it was much too chilly that evening to open a window.

Void snuggled against his thigh on the bench to table seating and he idly scratched under his chin with one hand, eyes not leaving the page. The story wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy, yet still interesting enough to hold his attention.

Across from him, Olette had been taking some sort of spice to grind in a wood bowl. Vanitas could tell that she was looking at him every now and then, but he ignored her. The sound of the grinding, and servants doing last minute chores were pleasant to come back to when his focus waned as he turned a page.

The servants talked in hushed tones around him. Though unseen by his eyes, they made gestures and tilted their heads in his direction. Olette would look to Vanitas, shrug, and gave her best apologies with her entire face. One of the servants rolled their eyes.

Yawning, Vanitas took note of the time from the lack of light in the room and placed a bookmark between the pages. Without so much of a farewell, he scooped Void under one arm and the book in the other.

Olette breathed out a loud sigh of relief when hearing the back door shut.

“Really, he cannot keep coming here!” a maid insisted. She was still dressed in her full uniform, as was Olette. Neither were comfortable taking off their aprons or dresses as their master’s son made himself cozy in what was supposed to be _their_ home.

“That boy. He needs some discipline and fast.” An older man dabbed away a bit of sweat and unfastened his cook’s apron from his back. “Master Xehanort is a good man. But damned if I wouldn’t look for a new lord if _that_ was our master.”

“Is it safe to have a bit of late dinner?” a younger male servant strode in, comfortably dressed in night clothes.

“Were you hiding?” Olette asked.

“You expect me to not? He’s got you marked; I’m not sticking around as a second target. Not to mention-” he sniffed. “You know I can’t stand cats.”

Looking from the back exit and to her fellow employees, Olette huffed. She didn’t necessarily have to like him, but she still had to serve him. Maybe, though she didn’t get her hopes up, he would realize what he was doing was very ungentlemanly.

The sniffling servant sneezed loudly.

“I’ll scrub the seats down.” She grumbled.


	7. Chapter 7

“A trip?”

Xehanort patted his mouth clean and removed the napkin from his chest. A servant immediately moved to clean up the space.

“Yes. I’m to present some inventions of mine at the Diamond Dust Convention in a week.”

Vanitas knew of Xehanort’s study beneath the estate. It was the one place he wasn’t allowed to enter. Well, one of two given that the head chef got particularly angry when he wandered into the kitchen. Perhaps it explained the mystery man’s appearances prior. Dr. Falicier had not visited for the past month which Vanitas found curious, but chose not to dwell too much on it.

“Am I going with you?”

“Consider this an opportunity of independent study. You will not have any training or tutelage, but it is not an invitation to slack off.”

And so, on the Sunday morning of his departure, Vanitas headed for the back yard with Void on his shoulder, idly scratching behind his ears with one hand and the other holding on to a thick book. This volume wasn’t included in his initial collection, instead borrowed from the manor library. It surprised him that a man like Xehanort would have fiction, even more so fairy tales. A book was still a book, and he could probably learn something from it without it putting him entirely to sleep.

The air was comfortably brisk, but he still wore his overcoat. Void curled in his lap as he sat down in one of the benches of the gazebo, opening to the title that caught his eye _, Snow White_.

* * *

 

Monday came quicker than expected, and Vanitas had fallen into his old habit of forgetting to do anything else but read. Void’s incessant meowing reminded him that there were two mouths to feed.

The pangs of hunger gnawed at his stomach and it was an enlightening feeling, having people do as he said when he said it. Omelet was young, chatty and someone he enjoyed teasing. But the other servants were quiet, and mature. Respecting one’s elders was standard knowledge growing up. The way they called him Young Master even without Xehanort’s presence, it was like commanding an army.

When he called, they answered. He wanted a breakfast of chicken and biscuits, it was received. Void had been given his own saucer of chicken Vanitas personally tore to shreds under the table.

“Good day Young Master.”

“Good afternoon Young Master.”

Formerly suppressed memories of his masters crawled into his vision with tendrils of negativity he couldn’t will down without a distraction. From the height of the sun, around this time he would be training. Dilan wasn’t there, instead he accompanied Xehanort.

The people who owned him were nobles too. He remembered their nonchalant stares when he was tired, dizzy from heat or shivering in the cold of night. But he had to do what they said or else he’d get a whip at his back or, if one wasn’t readily available, a belt across his face.

Vanitas touched the side of his mouth and looked up, spotting the youngest maid carrying a wide basket of white cloth his direction.

What was the difference between the servants here and the slaves out there?

She stopped to curtsey, though little effort went into it with the basket, and kept walking.

 “You.”

Pausing mid stride, she turned on her heels.

“Olette. My name, Young Master, is Olette. ” she insisted.

“Wonderful. Come to the training room in twenty minutes.”

Her eyes lingered on the basket and then back to Vanitas.

“I’m sorry but I have duties to attend to. And I’m not sure how training with a maid will do you any good.”

“I didn’t say you would be training with me. I just need you to do something while I train.”

“But- my duties-”

“Get someone else to do it. Twenty minutes. Get moving.”

Huffing in defeat, Olette turned back around to find someone to bare her burden.

Vanitas stretched in his normal training clothes and rolled his elbows at the appointed time. Void was safely locked in his room and he only hoped the cat would scratch its post and not the dresser.

“I’m here.” Olette announced, staring at the rack of swords with worry.

“Fascinating. Start on _Cinderella_.”

Biting back a retort, Olette accepted the heavy book and flittered through the pages until finding the right one. As she began reading, Vanitas had settled onto the floor to do pushups.

This was a lot more efficient. Olette was fortunately literate and had a clear voice. He could hear her easily with the echo of the room even over the sound of the wood sword cutting air.

However, the story was not even half read by the time Olette’s voice began to waver and she went silent several times. Stopping his sword mid swing, Vanitas raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you stop?”

As though talking pained her, Olette pointed to her throat.

“Water. Please?”

“You’re not the one swinging a sword, why should you get water?”

Eyebrows raised high, Olette did her best to show indignation and offense.

“Well excuse me but I’ve been sitting here reading nonstop. It makes you thirsty.”

“And? You can get a drink later.”

She had been sitting on the floor and stood, pressing down her uniform and storming to the door.

“Hey!” Vanitas barked.

Olette almost made her escape when Vanitas yanked her by her wrist.

“I didn’t say you could leave!”

She said nothing and struggled. Vanitas was much stronger but her thrashing was wilder, and she knocked into the thick wood. It was hard keeping a firm grip on her. His arm wrapped around her front and he held on tight.

“Let go! I’m not-”

Memories of being held by the hair bubbled up like a black tar and stuck to the corners of his eyes. The push and pull of her smaller frame reflected a mirror in his mind of trying to break the grip that held him.

The sting of a hand across his face stunned him long enough for her to wrench herself free and stumble to the door. By the time he got to it, she was halfway down the hall and not looking back.

* * *

 

Braig was impossible to read at any given time. It was hard to tell if he was angry, disappointed, or didn’t care. He paced the width of the room twice. Void lay upon Vanitas’ bed and the boy in question sat in one of the chairs beside the window.

“You know, a crying girl at your door is never a good thing. Means someone screwed up- big time.” Braig stopped, turned, and stared down to Vanitas. “And I’d say someone _really_ screwed up.”

Vanitas crossed his arms and stared back defiantly.

“She’s my servant, so I own her.”

Braig’s eyes fell flat in a deadpan stare.

“A servant, yes. But not a slave.” He approached Vanitas then, stopping a short distance away. “And she isn’t yours. See, you don’t get to thrash around little girls here. She wanted the job, I approved, and Master Xehanort whipped up some nice contracts to get her to be employed.”

Another step.

“You don’t own anything.”

Vanitas was staring up now as Braig loomed over him with narrowed eyes.

“By golly.” He smirked, chuckling dryly. “Not even two whole days and you’ve gone thinking you’re king of the castle. But you know what kid?”

Kid.

The word cut deep and Vanitas’ scowl deepened.

“This is Master Xehanort’s estate. You just live here. Adopted son you may be, but trust me, you aren’t recognized as anyone’s heir around here.”

Vanitas rose and balled his fists at his sides. Braig was still much taller than him and he squared his shoulders, looking up.

“You can’t talk to me like that.” He ground from his teeth.

“I am. I’ve heard about your escapades to the servants quarters. It ends now.”

In a flare of indignation, Vanitas backhanded Braig across his cheek. A second passed and Vanitas was confused. He was sure he struck him. The ache of hitting a strong cheekbone was proof. Braig did not flinch or look pained. Instead, his eyes regarded Vanitas as though he were as insignificant as a mosquito.

Back perfectly straight, Braig took a single step back and turned to walk out. Just as he opened the door, he stopped to speak once more.

“Grow up. You’ve got a lot of learning to do.”

* * *

 

_Journal Entry…_

_I finished Cinderella._

_…_

_It makes sense your servant would try to run away from you._

_I guess I should have seen it coming._

_I didn’t have to wear any hot iron shoes or dance in them to death, but I still understand why it happened to the stepmother. After all I-_

_Looks like I wasted another page on rambling and scribbles._

* * *

 

The next morning, Olette was greeted with a tin pitcher of water and equally shiny mug. The maid who handed it to her shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol how do i character development


	8. Chapter 8

Thursday began with breakfast, giving Void attention, and then to training.

Olette sat on the floor. Reading from the tale of _Sleeping Beauty_. She knew the stories, but never really read through them in full.

Gratitude was something foreign to Vanitas. He learned “please” and “thank you”, but the words always felt just as empty as the prayers he recited automatically to the Sisters. Actions spoke louder than words, he figured. As the story ended, Olette yelped in surprise when he gently pat her on the head as he did Void.

Monday would crawl back around as would his normal instructors, and suddenly, he felt behind.

_“…you aren’t recognized as anyone’s heir around here.”_

How could he hope to take on Xehanort’s legacy if he couldn’t even have his servants respect him? It was absurd to even consider having so much to his name if the weight would immediately crush him.

No. He wasn’t a slave master.

He’d be better.

Braig’s dedication to Xehanort likely didn’t come overnight. He didn’t look like the cowering, whip fearing men he’d seen, hobbling in the dirt and collapsing under the strain of work too much for them to bare. If Xehanort just died, he’d leave.

He’d earn his title.

He’d earn everything.

* * *

 

Time passed as though he was monitoring an hour glass. Some days felt abysmally slow as though watching the top drop bit by bit, others flew by like the grains of sand rushing to the bottom.

Vanitas threw himself into training with a fervor Dilan didn’t see coming and the sudden questions of what to do when not explicitly training made the man actually stop and lecture. Xehanort obliged to their mismatched meals. Vanitas learned which servant did what and assisted in meal preparation.  He was obviously not a trained cook, but he would learn. The chef’s only condition was that only Vanitas would eat what he made.

These were not acts of kindness or generosity, but precision and efficiency. He wanted to learn every skill he could to be entirely independent as well as know the ins and outs of everything in the mansion.

Void grew, rarely leaving Vanitas’ side unless he was training. Otherwise he sat at his feet and warmed his ankles as he sat up with perfected posture and wrote out equation after equation and recited historic scientific theories.

Olette would read on Sunday afternoons as Vanitas listened, swinging his sword with a newfound accuracy and calculated strikes. She’d learned to just accept the head pats as they started to feel rather nice with the perfect pressure when rubbing her head.

Horseback riding, shooting, hand to hand martial arts, ballroom dancing, Vanitas took them all in stride no matter how awkward they felt. Different instructors came to and from the manor as months went by, making it lively with the noise of horse shoe clatter.

When Xehanort invited him to his private laboratory, Vanitas was thirteen and assimilated into the estate.

Except the forbidden basement.

Down a spiral staircase lit by electric lanterns, they reached a cold place. Even with his long sleeved shirt, Vanitas could feel the chill in his arms.

There was a small corridor at the bottom, which lead to a small room. On a line of hooks were several white coats, and a table had an assortment of gloves, goggles and other protective wear.

“Put on one of those masks there. You’ll be needing goggles too. You won’t be doing anything today, but  it’s for your own protection.”

At Xehanort’s instruction, Vanitas obeyed.

Bubbling, fizzing, and the hiss of steam greeted Vanitas when the door to the next room was opened.

Various gadgets spun or sat still on one long table. On another, test tubes had been set up in a colorful array.

An entire shelf was dedicated to preserved parts. What took Vanitas’ immediate attention was the pair of conjoined hearts. One was covered with a sickly white film, and the other looked abnormally dark red.

“You see, my expeditions are valuable to medical science and technology. I claim to be no practitioner of medical care, mind you.”

Xehanort waved to a severed hand.

“That is the hand of King Jecht, a fearsome warrior who was felled in battle. However…” He smiled to himself beneath his own mask. “He was born with the most curious disability of having a paralyzed hand.”

Vanitas eyed the hand as though it would twitch in response.

It didn’t.

“Despite my training to be a soldier, I took interest in” Xehanort paused. “Improving the human body. As proof of my integrity, I got his hand to work.  There are some things that I regret not have been able to discover. Namely immortality, and revival of the deceased.”

Xehanort looked to Vanitas then, gold eyes gleaming behind glass.

“And that is where you come in. I am old. Better than most men my age, but still aging. You shall continue my research. And if I die in my sleep, I’ll at least have the hope that I’ll wake up in a better body.”

It sounded like something out of one of the many stories he’d read. Living forever would have been pretty boring after an extra two hundred years or so, surely. Though as impossible as it sounded, maybe it was fate.

“I guess I could try to keep you alive longer. I don’t think I’ve exactly learned how to manage the estate on my own.”

Xehanort chuckled and patted Vanitas twice on the back.

“I knew you were a good pick.”

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 100,_

_I don’t think I should think too much on everything I read. The Frog Prince… didn’t give much to reflect on._

_Though, if someone claims to be a prince in the form of a frog, I’ll toss them against a wall and see what happens._

_Xehanort’s wishes for immortality sound like a more impressive story, and I really want to see it work. I don’t think gods are really worth worshipping over, if any are real. But I suppose I’d be some sort of god if I pulled it off._


	9. Chapter 9

For the first time in a long time, Vanitas left the estate.

Xehanort was going off on an expedition and Vanitas would be there to follow his instruction. Vanitas wasn’t nervous or scared, his primary concern being on Void. He left a very specific week by week diet to Olette and made a new scratching post to be kept with the servants.

From the frost covered docks, they sailed with a small group of others Vanitas learned were scientists and assistants. He was quiet for the most part, not willing to speak with anyone who wasn’t Xehanort. Courtesy was a given, but the jokes and excitement they radiated were lost to him.

“You see.” Xehanort explained as they departed into a jungle thicket. “Unmapped territory and fabled civilizations known for longevity are ideal targets. The fools who rush headlong into deserts are often blinded by the glimmer of gold and become ensnared by traps of their own making.”

True, gold did seem to have that effect on people. Vanitas looked around him. The other researchers stumbled over thick vines and chatted among themselves. A tall man carried the brunt of their supplies and silently followed them along. What Vanitas found most interesting was his seemingly natural blue hair.

“Unsuspecting as that lot may be, they are not here for riches. For the true value, is here.”

Bent over, Xehanort plucked a small leaf from a bush. Taking it in his own hand, Vanitas stared. A curious scent caught his nose then. It smelled like something sweet, but also burnt.

“Abaddon. Very good for making blood thinner.”

One of the assistants came forward at Xehanort’s beckon and began picking at the bush, carefully harvesting a sizable jar of them.

“If you know what these are, then is this really uncharted territory?” Vanitas asked.

This earned a chuckle.

“You don’t throw yourself entirely into a quest, boy. That is what gets men killed. Think of it as reading a book. You place a bookmark where you left off, and continue when you’re ready.”

They walked, they camped, samples and herbs were collected, and Vanitas took in the fact that he would have to do this one day on his own. A map of a country was one thing, a map in development was another. Despite growing up around greenery and the loud calling of birds, this place felt different. From the plants to the array of insects that regarded their flesh as dinner. The ointment Xehanort developed warded the worst of them off, but it’d been years since Vanitas suffered a particularly annoying bite. It dredged up thoughts of a time before hearing the rattle of chains. The humidity was the same, as was the mud after a long rain, the smell of rich soil and the cleanliness of a shower under a waterfall.

Their supplies would last them three weeks if stretched as far as possible, but Vanitas could see Xehanort slowing down, something in his back or legs causing him discomfort.

By the middle of the second week, everyone had fallen quiet; tired, and carried one foot in front of the other. Vanitas wasn’t as bothered, nor the blue haired man. At that moment, he was thankful for all of Dilan’s drilling. His endurance was certainly more than what the others could take.

Something white caught Vanitas’ eye and he pointed.

“That looks important.”

In the moments that passed, he’d never seen Xehanort look so ecstatic.

It was a small, flat piece of stone seemingly broken off from something bigger. A trail spaced a minute of walking apart brought their group to bigger pieces forming cracked and deteriorated pavement.

Nature had overtaken most of the architecture, leaving time worn statues wrapped in vines and walls surrounded by flowers.

“Your first expedition and you uncover ancient ruins. Good work, Vanitas.” Xehanort gripped him firmly by the shoulder and nodded slowly  in approval.

* * *

 

Their lack of supplies forced them to turn back for the humble village they departed from. Eager to record and establish the scale of the place, it would do no good if they died of dehydration or hunger. Their trip time was lessened with a clear route planned.

The other researchers talked animatedly among themselves and compared sketches of what they found. Xehanort retired to his own tent, and the blue haired man sat on guard, furthest from their camp fire. Vanitas approached and stood beside him, still feeling shorter even though he was seated on a log.

“What’s your name?”

The man looked to Vanitas, blue eyes striking in the light of the half-moon shining down.

“Isa.”

His voice was eerily calm, and he blinked slowly. Something silver glinted and Vanitas took note of the studs in his ears, which were pointed. Scarred flesh marked that they had been made that way through some kind of surgery.

Vanitas’ stare caught his attention and he obliged.

“I was a pirate of the Lunatic crew. We disbanded after… an unfortunate defeat.” He tapped an ear. “A mark of being a true Lunatic.”

“Now you haul luggage?”

Isa grinned, showing sharp canines.

“Unlike my brethren, I wasn’t allowed death. I was strong, so I was put to work.”

“So you’re a slave?”

“By law, a slave to man. But eternally a slave to the moon.” Isa reached up to the sky, fingers outstretched as though he could reach it.

They were quiet together as Isa put his arm back down.

“Work for me.”

Blue eyes turned to Vanitas. Isa’s face was hard to read as he had one eyebrow raised and a mouth set in a straight line.

“I was a slave too. But managed to escape. People say it must be fate that someone like Xehanort took me in. So, I think it’s destiny that brought me here too.” He outstretched his hand. “So work for me.”

At this, Isa chuckled.

“I can assure you it isn’t that simple. Though if you can break these shackles bound to my name, then I may accept.”

“Right.” Vanitas dragged. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. He had to earn what he wanted.

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 01,_

_My old journal was filled. So I got a new one. Xehanort said I could learn all I wanted when we first met, and he wasn’t lying._

_Looking back, everyone seems so stupid. Accepting their small worlds, willfully sitting in ignorance and roping everyone else along with their idiocy. The Sisters would have kept me in that tiny orphanage, reciting the Word like I had no will of my own, and before that, my masters would have kept all their knowledge to themselves._

_The Unda may not have been stupid. But gold made them see less clearly. I should forget them._


	10. Chapter 10

The weight of the discovery hadn’t hit him until seeing his face, black and white in a newspaper.

_Grand Discovery Small Discoverer_

While not being fond of being called _small_ , the credit was technically his since he’d spotted the stone first. The area had been quarantined off for an official archeological investigation as well as possible botanical prospects. Grants along with donations were poured into his pocket and with help from Xehanort, he learned how to manage the team under his name.

They returned to the mansion after a skeleton crew had been established. Prior to that, the smell of straw and rich soil seeped into Vanitas’ skin as he spent days sitting in a humid hut listening to Xehanort explain bare basics of what was to come.

Paperwork as well as reading drowned out any training or instruction he was meant to receive. Isa had been bought, set free, and immediately hired as Vanitas’ personal guard. Void took an immediate liking and rubbed against his shins, making him cringe.

In his new office within the manor, Vanitas read over contracts while listening to a legal worker explain terminology.

Olette would bring him iced tea on a platter daily during these sessions and watched Void in the meantime.

Between reading reports and working with Xehanort, Vanitas had become constantly busy. It must have taken Xehanort years to manage so much at once and be able to settle enough to adopt him. It the road to earning his keep was paved like this, then he’d keep moving.

* * *

 

In days to come, life was simple. Busy, fit to burst with even more reading, day after day of writing until his hands hurt, but simple. Though in this newfound routine, something Vanitas should have expected happened.

For the first time since meeting him. Xehanort had fallen.

Commotion in the courtyard made him look out a window and see a man with long blonde hair in a lab coat being ushered quickly from a carriage and into the manor.

Xehanort’s bedroom door was left open and the blond man had his hands upon Xehanort, asking questions and seemed to be testing his joints for specifics. A younger man with slate grey hair wrote on a thick clip board. Braig stood on the other side of the bed, dutifully watching and listening.

Vanitas realized that he never actually entered Xehanort’s room. Spacious, with an entire bookshelf just as big as Vanitas’ own and filled completely with books. His desk stood beside a wide window, making  miniature bottles of preserved, mangled flesh glisten. It smelled old, like aged ointments, musk, and what Vanitas assumed to be Xehanort’s natural scent.

Something rattling behind him caught his attention and two servants rolled a cabinet with glass casing into the room. Vanitas’ presence  was finally acknowledged and Braig lead him outside.

“Looks like it’s your time to shine.” Braig sighed and shook his head. “Can’t beat age. That fall was pretty nasty.”

“He looked alive to me.”

Looking behind Braig, he watched as more equipment was carted in.

“Alive, yes. Well? Not so much. I don’t think he’ll be going on any expeditions again- ever. Your big find may have been exactly what he was looking for, but no one knows until you handle it.”

Vanitas brought a curled fist under his chin at the thought. Paperwork had been intense already. But Xehanort still had his own share to deal with.

All that over him would overwhelm-

The sudden force of a hand clapping on his back startled him enough to snap back to reality, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation.

“You’ve been doing pretty good so far, don’t slip up. ”

The doctor and his assistant stayed for two weeks monitoring and giving care. In the end, Xehanort had been given a cane for support. His posture was never completely straight, but now he seemed smaller, gripping the thing. A custom one had been delivered  soon after. A silver goat head handle, turquoise studded collar and black shaft suited him much better.


	11. Chapter 11

Two months later, Vanitas returned to the site. A dirt road had been paved, shaving days from the trip. Isa was with him, custom made claymore sheathed and at his side. His black uniform fit perfectly on his muscular frame, making an imposing figure. Before leaving, Olette seemed genuinely concerned, and Void shared her sentiment. He assured them both with gentle pats on their heads that he could handle it. The researchers whom Vanitas had been acquainted with met them at the village.

Flags, rope, ladders and hanging lanterns decorated the ruins. Vines had been cleared away, unless it proved integral to structure or shape of what it’d been attached to. Sunlight was bright during the hot, cloudless day illuminating the entire excavation.

Vanitas listened to their explanations, looked at sketches, and carefully stepped around anything hazardous. In a tent, tables were lined with small objects that stemmed from coins to engraved tablets of stone. Several large chunks of orange crystal had their own table and Vanitas observed them closely.

“A truly amazing find.” One of the researchers picked a smaller piece up with a gloved hand. “This crystal is, well, of unknown origin! It is not natural, nor does it bare any mark of being man made. Why, I’ve heard rumors that Lord Ansem of the Royal Radiance University is willing to pay a hefty sum for just one.”

The Royal Radiance University was probably the largest, technologically advanced university in the world and as headmaster; Lord Ansem was like the king of a small kingdom.

“Where were they found?” Vanitas asked first.

“Allow me to show you!”

The researcher was giddy as he lead them down a path of half crumbled archways. Trees opened up, revealing a clearing of what used to be mosaic and stone tiled ground. Gravity and time took their toll for the most part, leaving roofless white stone hovels, though some bigger structures held most of their ancient shape.

A small lake surrounded by trees held remains of what Vanitas guessed was a shrine from its half sunk arches. White slabs of stone paved a bridge in a shape similar to an aqueduct before crumbling into water below. The researcher lead them to the shore of the lake, pointing to the structure a distance away.

“Here, by the water. Everyone’s guess is that they drifted from that building. However, until we can get a proper team for going underwater, it remains a mystery.”

“You said this Lord Ansem would pay a lot of money for those crystals?”

Both Vanitas and the other looked back to Isa who stopped right where dirt met water.

“Why, yes! But we cannot just sell them off. We’re not even sure how rare they are.”

“Master Vanitas, allow me two weeks. I can assemble a crew to explore and bring back more crystals than you may know what to do with.”

Isa’s declaration left the researcher stunned.

“But sir, there are specialized institutions for this very thing. Men who are trained in diving and have the proper equipmen-”

“And I used to be a pirate. Sunken treasure is my territory.”

Two pairs of eyes fell onto Vanitas and he found no downside. It saved the time of putting together a team, and a ragtag group was certainly the most cost effective choice.

“Two weeks. Get your men. I expect a large haul.”

* * *

 

In eleven days, Isa returned with a small group of impressionable men. Many of them had tattoos, piercings, and scars. A lone young woman stood out for her flowing red hair and pale skin covered by a ragged dress. Outside of his uniform, Isa wore a loose blouse and well-worn pants.  

Vanitas waited out the time between the camp and village, using Xehanort’s notes to study and understand the botany and archeology. Isa and his small crew rode in the back of a wagon, immediately making villagers and camp crew weary.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, but I am impressed.” He greeted, looking them all over.

“I am honored by your faith.” Isa deadpanned, hopping over the side of the wagon. He re-adjusted the sheath of his sword and stepped forward, followed closely by the others. The young woman looked around with interest, catching Vanitas’ eye with how completely out of place she was among everything. He tilted his head in her direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“This is Ariel, don’t mind her. Just a never ending sense of curiosity. Shall we be on our way?”

The researcher seemed to be on the verge of biting his fingernails when they laughed at the mere idea of wearing diving suits. They set out to the lake in two fishing boats and Vanitas watched them through binoculars.

Isa lead charge, giving instructions and pointing down to the water. The woman jumped in first, staying underwater for several minutes and resurfacing, relaying whatever she’d found through different hand movements and the others began jumping in while she minded the boats. Isa carefully scaled the tilted wall of the building and peeked through holes. His voice traveling across the water didn’t reach Vanitas as he shouted down to the girl his findings.

Every minute or so, one of them would resurface, dump something in a boat, and plunge back down. Isa used his arms to steady himself on an open arch and stared down as though watching something interesting. To Vanitas’ surprise, he jumped.

The boats had been loaded so full they split the weight evenly and rowed back before either could sink with them in it.

True to his word, Isa returned with a haul, some crystals larger than small animals.

“I suggest sending word to Lord Ansem of purchasing one of those crystals.” Isa smirked and held one out in his hand. Bright blue tinted its edge and contrasted with its orange core.


	12. Chapter 12

Xehanort’s smile was on the verge of mad when greeting Vanitas at the manor doors. Most servants retired for the night. Only guards were active, one sniper on a dark balcony, and two patrolling the main yard.

Cane in one hand, newspaper in the other, he showed a full set of teeth when Vanitas stepped from the carriage.

“You’ve made an old man very happy my boy. Come. Let me get a look at one of those crystals.”

Braig was there as well, stepping aside to open the door.

“Guess you can catch a break now.” Vanitas said behind him.

Isa nodded, heading to his own room.

Down in the lab, Xehanort inspected a smaller crystal with a gloved hand, watching it glint at certain angles. He pulled a microscope from a cabinet, adjusting settings until finding it satisfactory to use.

“That shrine, the researchers believe it to be Nymian ruins. An ancient, highly advanced civilization. ” He looked from the microscope with small smirk on his lips. “In the past, there have been small artifacts like cogs to a machine, coin and tablets. We knew little, save for their use of some form of energy source.”

Vanitas looked to the crystal as Xehanort held it back up.

“It seems we have found it.”

“How can you be so sure? If they’re some sort of ancient power source, wouldn’t it have run out by now?”

Xehanort chuckled.

“A catalyst will be needed. And for that, I have an acquaintance that is more than qualified to help.”

Vanitas thought for several seconds when realization jolted the back of his neck.

“That man, Dr. Falicier.”

“Yes, good of you to remember him.” With the beckon of his hand, they walked out of the room and into another connecting area. Xehanort continued to talk as he took in the corridor of different rooms with locked doors and no windows, labels on plaques beside them. Without guidance, it was surely a maze.

“He too is a doctor of a field beyond common medicine. He can heal, but his techniques are not those you will find at a hospital. In fact, you could even say supernatural.”

The Unda had deities and believed in miracles, but to hear it from someone seemingly dedicated to math and science was rather bizarre.

“You’re saying the catalyst is magic?” Vanitas asked, skepticism covering his face.

A door was unlocked and opened, revealing what looked like a hoodoo emporium. Shelves and cases of books, vases, and mystical paraphernalia were neatly lined against stone walls. A single brazier lit the room above, casting light bright enough light for everything to be seen. A table and two chairs sat in the center.

“Dr. Falicier has a lab somewhat of his own. Just as you may be wary of his technique, he is weary of mine.” Xehanort swept his hand across the room. “Yet it seems neither of us can function entirely without the other.”

Intrigued by the trio of shrunken skulls, Vanitas stepped in and tilted his head side to side at the hanging trinkets. They certainly looked real, closed eyes almost ready to snap open when he leaned forward. Vanitas abstained from touching, not keen on the idea of what their mummified skin felt like.

“I’m guessing he’ll be back soon then?”

“Not quite. He too is a busy man. But, we will be having guests.”

Vanitas turned fully from the skulls, trying to ignore the feeling that someone was watching him behind his back.

“More researchers?”

“Far from it actually. An old comrade of mine and his children. Be mindful of your manners, I have to keep up appearances.”

“Right.” Vanitas had trouble picturing Xehanort with friends or anyone who didn’t have a pencil and paper in their hands, but he’d do as he was told.

* * *

 

_Journal Entry 16,_

_Time’s passed, but it’s rare I feel like writing. I make notes all the time on research, it’s not personal, so it shouldn’t go here. Omelet and Void are the same, maybe one day I can go back to training like I used to. It feels good to swing a sword._


	13. Chapter 13

The guests in question were an older man around Xehanort’s age, two older teens, and a boy who looked close to Vanitas’ age. The older man was dressed in a way he’d never seen before. His pants were wide, and instead of a tailcoat he wore something like a robe. From his hair and eyes, he looked to be somewhere from Far East. The others wore clothing familiar to Vanitas, it surprised him that there were others with hair as naturally spiky as his. Especially the blonde.

Braig escorted them to their rooms on the second floor where they would stay for three days. It wasn’t his first time seeing it, but Vanitas could finally eat in the greater dining hall.

Dark wood lined the walls along with vases of dark colored flowers, all illuminated by a large chandelier glittering with silver accents. The table was longer, able to seat ten people with two at opposing ends. Some chairs had been removed to even the spacing between the four teens, leaving three on each side. The blonde, Ventus, sat on the same side as Vanitas while the elder sat next to each other opposite.

A full spread had been put out with Braig seeing to serving them.

“Aqua.” Xehanort’s friend, Eraqus said from one end of the table. “Why don’t you tell our host about your archery.”

If Vanitas could describe the young woman as briefly as possible, he’d likely say “Prim and proper.” Her back was as straight as anyone’s, eyes focused like a guard, and her speech was never too loud or too quiet.

“I’ve been training at Brightcrest School of Archery. I received first place in every regional competition.”

Eraqus chuckled.

“She’s got talent they’ve never seen before and is an inspiration to all the young ladies there. Speaking of talent, Terra.”

The other teen nodded his head.

“I’ve been accepted into the Great Bastion Academy.”

“After you broke that guy’s nose.” Ventus mumbled, though to himself. Eraqus caught this and frowned.

Xehanort looked to Terra in surprise.

“Ventus.” Eraqus warned.

“It’s alright, I should have held back a bit.” Terra gave a pointed look to Ventus who hurried back to his plate.

 “My apologies. When I took him in, he’d grown a bit too old for finishing school.”

Vanitas hadn’t gone to a finishing school and knew better. He looked over to Ventus in a sideways glance and watched as he blushed and kept his hands busy with cutting into a piece of chicken, at least he had the right fork in hand.

Eraqus sighed, taking a sip of his wine and motioned to Ventus with one hand.

“It’s been a delicate process, raising him. He was in a coma for two months, and I couldn’t allow him anything too strenuous. He has taken this time to study at the Holy Dominion Church.”

“Ah yes, I hear that is where the three infamous Mothers hail from?”

Eraqus smiled at Xehanort’s recognition.

“The very same. Why, I’m sure he could be a good priest.”

Big blue eyes, fair hair, round cheeks, and seemingly radiating light. Vanitas inwardly cringed. His chipper demeanor would likely grate on him in minutes if left alone for too long.

Xehanort didn’t speak of the experimentation, and spoke for Vanitas when talking about their now famous expedition. Vanitas had been silent for the duration of their dinner and most of desert until a surprise question from Eraqus.

“I’m glad to see that Xehanort has found himself such a wonderful son. Would you show me some of your swordsmanship in the morning?”

Vanitas looked to Xehanort first, seeing a nod of approval.

“It would be my pleasure, Master Eraqus.”

“Wow, you were tutored here too. So you must be really strong!” Ventus enthused to his left.

“I’m not really sure.” Vanitas flatly responded. Did he have to talk so loud? He reminded him of the smaller children from the orphanage. Loud, and always audible when trying to find quiet.

From the meal alone, Vanitas picked Aqua to be his favorite out of the group. She was quiet, didn’t speak until spoken to, and despite Terra’s massive frame, he was sure she could take him down easily. Her arms were exposed in the halter dress she wore, a bit of definition on her forearms.

“Come on Ven, if a guy goes around boasting about how strong he is, chances are he’s a total push over.”

Terra’s chastising earned a surprising quirk of the side of Aqua’s lips, to which she did her best to suppress.

“Well, yeah but you hit like a jack hammer. I bet you’d think a bear’s a push over.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

Aqua covered her lips as a giggle slipped through.

“What’s so funny?” Terra teased.

“It’s just that, you two are like brothers from birth, but still almost opposites.”

The unified “huh?” between the boys made her eyes soften further, Eraqus then cleared his throat.

“That was an excellent meal. Give my regards to the chef.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it old friend. The hour grows late, and I’m sure you’re still recovering from your travels.”

The smile Xehanort gave Eraqus was new to Vanitas. It didn’t look fake, but something in his eyes that made him think it wasn’t entirely genuine.

“Yes, it was indeed a long trip. Though I suppose a train is far better than horseback.”

They both chuckled, making Vanitas even more uneasy.

“Then please, let us excuse ourselves. I shall see you in the morning.”

Eraqus stood first, then the older teens. Ventus scarfed down the remains of the small tarts before standing as well. They bowed, then let themselves be escorted out by another servant. Braig remained in the room, exhaling as the door closed behind them.

“What do you make of them?”

Vanitas turned to Xehanort with an eyebrow raised.

“Why do you ask?”

Xehanort hummed.

“Eraqus is like myself. No heir, and sitting upon a name and fortune. He has indeed been a good friend of mine, yet there are some things we don’t quite agree upon.” Xehanort’s sigh was brief. “A good social and business partner is hard to come by. You too will have to earn his and his children’s trust. They are adopted as well, so you at least have something to confide in.”

Vanitas scoffed.

“That Ventus kid, he isn’t any good. Terra looks like he’d sooner get himself killed in a war. Aqua seems like the best bet. She’s strong, calculating, will probably keep the house afloat till she’s 70. Wouldn’t be hard for her to marry either.”

“Considering asking for her hand are you?”

Jest or not, Vanitas gave a hard, flat stare. Braig’s snickering only further irritated him.

“Do not consider it too out of the question. Political marriages are important. A powerful wife is just as good as any good business partner.”

Xehanort grinned at Vanitas irritated sideways stare and stood, finding a grip with his cane. Maids entered to clean up, and Vanitas wrapped a piece of meat in a napkin for Void. Olette had been charged with the majority of Void’s care during the day, allowing the feline back during the night so he wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. The next few days may be more stress than he’d anticipated and he was sure he’d need a distraction.

* * *

 

Breakfast had been quick, and quiet. Instead of the training room, they all gathered outside.

At the clearing close to the gazebo, archery targets had been set up a distance away. Dilan stood beside a rack of different swords and Isa flanked him.

Sunlight warmed them, and a spring breeze combed through Vanitas’ hair. He wore his training clothes, as did Terra. Though his large pants and rather tight shirt seemed impractical, Vanitas was sure he knew how to move in them. Aqua held a bow at her side and a quiver on her back. Her blouse seemed custom designed just for her as Vanitas had never seen one in that kind of shape outside of dresses. She still wore a corset, though the thing didn’t look like it was suffocating her to death.

Ventus stood beside Eraqus in normal, crème colored clothing. Clearly not fit for fighting.

Terra picked a broadsword fitting of his frame from the rack and Isa stepped forward, picking something closest to his claymore.

“You’ve got this Terra!” Ventus cheered. Vanitas winced at how loud he was but it only encouraged Terra.

Blunted steel clashed. Great Bastion Academy was for young men who wanted to serve royalty and other high nobility. Graduation guaranteed landing in a higher position in the military from the start. Both combatants’ faces grew serious when they saw who their opponent _really_ was and their clashes rang louder.

Vanitas took a moment to watch Xehanort’s face. His gaze was collected save for the slight curl of his lips. Ventus cheered, though it was unclear if Terra could even hear him. Each parry and feint drew them closer into their own battle high.

“Enough!” Eraqus boomed, startling Vanitas.

Isa jumped back and Terra slowed his swing. They both stared each other in the eye, breathing hard and sweating. Terra bowed to Isa and the ex-pirate tilted his head, choosing to ignore it and put the sword back. When the gesture wasn’t received in turn, Terra scratched the back of his head and also put his sword away.

Eraqus sighed.

Seeing this as some sort of que, Aqua briskly stepped forward and curtsied.

“I will begin now.”

Vanitas looked between Terra and Ventus. Despite the impressive show, Terra seemed frustrated. Ventus had a hand placed on his forearm, receiving a warm smile in tow.

The strain of an arrow being pulled back caught Vanitas’ ear and he saw just in time an almost gentle release as it flew dead center on the target. Aqua drew again, hitting just slightly beside the other arrow, and a third time on the other. It formed an arrangement almost like a flower.

Ventus and Terra clapped, making her smile as she curtsied again.

“Fine warriors you have raised.” Xehanort clapped slowly. “And at such a young age.”

“Thank you, I do my best with them. Now then, Vanitas, why don’t you go ahead?”

Vanitas met Xehanort’s eyes for a split second, picking his usual sword as Dilan picked one of his own.

“Wow I’ve never seen a stance like that before.” Ven exclaimed.

“According to the letters my friend has sent, he developed it all on his own. Quite remarkable.” Eraqus followed up.

Terra found his eyes darting between the guard and Vanitas.

“Amazing, he’s so fast. But he’s hitting really hard too. Barely breaking a sweat at that!”

Vanitas could tell Dilan wasn’t holding back, and neither was he. Their practices had gotten intense, and what little he could get in a week, he’d go all out to make up for the sitting for hours on end, filing paper work.

Being able to move after being cooped up in a library or his room felt exhilarating. Their swords and feet danced until Xehanort called for them to stop. Begrudgingly, he complied. There was no telling when he would get to spar like that again.

To add to his dismay, they gathered in the gazebo to sit and listen to Ventus recite inspirational, religious poetry.

Sucking in his disdain, Vanitas wished he could find literally anything to tune the boy out. This area of the yard was the most quiet, giving Ventus ample opportunity to use the full extent of his vocal chords. Eraqus looked proud, as did Terra and Aqua. Their gazes were so soft Vanitas could practically feel the mush.

If he wasn’t careful he was sure to gag.

Vanitas remained stoic as the day dragged on. His presence was only, fortunately, needed until after having lunch with the others while the old men reminisced elsewhere. All of his answers were curt; he only showed the necessary amount of respect to not make Xehanort look bad, all the while he wishing he could fight Terra one on one. Ladies didn’t swing swords, so Aqua was unfortunately out of the question.

After another extravagant dinner, a knock on his door surprised him.

In night clothes fitting of his creamy skin and fair hair, Ventus nervously looked both ways down the hall. They stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds before the blonde spoke first.’

Blurted out was more appropriate.

“Will you help me train?”


	14. Chapter 14

Vanitas watched Ventus’ face in what little lighting he had. His big blue eyes were wide and piercing with hope that he would accept. When Venus didn’t keep going, Vanitas blinked.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” Ventus caught himself and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Yes. I’ve never seen anyone move like you before. And- well… Master Eraqus won’t allow me any training, and Terra’s too afraid that he’d hurt me.”

“No.”

Before Vanitas could shut his door, Ventus used half of his body to stop it.

Ventus made small noises of discomfort as Vanitas squeezed him in the doorway for a second before letting up. With a stumble, he stepped into Vanitas’ room, looked around and focused back on the other boy.

“Please? I’ve been practicing on my own and against Terra’s old dummies they throw out.” He mock dropped into a fighting stance that by all means to Vanitas looked incredibly impractical. “I can’t ask Aqua and-well, the Master would probably get really mad at me.”

“And you expect to hit someone like that?”

Ventus stood straight after Vanitas waved his hand at his feet.

“Just let me show you! I… well…” Ventus looked down, rubbing the back of his head. “I couldn’t lift the swords so I took one of the kitchen knives. But! I made sure to leave a bit of money for them to get a new one!”

Vanitas’ single narrow eye sent the boy into a state of rambling. Xehanort confirmed that he wouldn’t be sent off to any war, so maybe it wasn’t too terrible Ventus was teaching himself how to fight with kitchenware. If someone tried to pillage his church, he’d have the means to weild the tools available. Probably.

“Be quiet. Fine, I’ll watch. Do you have your knife with you?”

“Oh, I’ve hidden it in my luggage. I c-”

“Go get it, change into something, well, not that. And meet me in the training room.”

Ventus’ face acted as a sun as he beamed and thanked Vanitas profusely, leaving him feeling like someone doused him with light itself.

* * *

 

It was possible everything Ventus owned had been a bright color. This extended to the plain white shirt and grey short pants.

Vanitas looked to the scratched and blunted from constant force knife in his hand. It was bigger than he’d expected. Wordlessly he traveled to the rack and fetched a saber closest to it. With one hand, he handed it to the eager eyed Ventus and cringed when the weight dragged his arm down.

“Ugh, this is massive.”

“You’re just really weak.”

Ventus laughed and placed the kitchen knife on the ground and kicked it away.

“Yeah, I’ve seen the way Terra works out outside sometimes. It’s incredible. I try some of it on my own in the morning, but I’m nowhere near his level- oof.”

After several steps back, Vanitas deemed himself safe if the blade went flying or if Ventus somehow impaled himself on the blunted edge.

Ventus seemed confident enough, testing his swings three times before launching into an attack. Not the most inspiring swordplay, but it was surprisingly functional. The blade clearly weighed him down, making some of his movements sloppy, but it could possibly work.

It would be an absolute waste of time to attempt to spar. It was obvious he didn’t understand the basics nor had the core strength to not result in some form of self-injury later.

“All in all, pathetic.” Vanitas chided. Ventus was out of breath before him, wincing at an ache in his arms. “You desperately need to be whipped into shape. Though I suppose I can’t blame you entirely for that.”

One of the Sister’s faces flashed in Vanitas’ mind as he remembered the soreness in his knees when kneeling for prayer.

“You’re not in some Holy See, so I know you don’t need to pray at every waking second.” He waited a moment for Ventus to stop practically heaving and stand tall again. “I have some old books. Take them. Read them when you get back home and don’t do anything stupid until you understand them.”

Radiance shined from Ventus’ smile and he fetched his old knife, clutching it tightly.

“You’d do that for me? That’s-”

“Great. Yeah.” Vanitas didn’t want to hear another ramble. “For now, try doing some pushups and sit ups. In fact, I have a book for that too.”

“You’re the best!”

Vanitas felt every limb of his seize up as he was launched at in a one armed hug.

“I’ll stop by your room tomorrow to pick them up! We’d better get some sleep, don’t want to be late for breakfast!” Ventus laughed and jogged off.

Moments passed and Vanitas shook off the lingering feeling with a jerk of his shoulders. If Ventus or anyone attempted to hug him again he’d probably break their wrist.


	15. Chapter 15

In the following two days, Ventus had stuck to Vanitas as though tethered by a cord. Wherever Vanitas was, Ventus followed within certain proximity. Every passing moment dredged up memories of the orphanage and how the persistent smaller children attempted to compete for his attention. Aqua and Terra followed in tow, often hovering like protective parents and shooting disapproving glances when Vanitas would not return Ventus’ enthusiasm.

It was very annoying.

Ventus did not seem to mind his lack of energy, seeing it as some sort of acceptance to continue in his own mind. Xehanort stayed mostly out of sight, likely off with Eraqus. Vanitas was sure Eraqus did not even know of the laboratory below. In turn, Vanitas kept mostly quiet about the expedition, not telling much outside of what wasn’t already in the papers.

Showers of intellectual praise spewed from Ventus as though he were idolized. Olette had become somewhat of a savior when Vanitas was near his snapping point. After coming to deliver them hors d’oeuvres, a casual mention of the weather immediately took attention from himself to Olette who seemed to revel as a social butterfly despite her status.

Within comfortable confines of the sitting room, Vanitas relished in the few minutes he had to not talk in his game of dominos with Aqua stop the wide coffee table. Terra and Ventus sat on a separate couch, seemingly having a grand time just talking with the young maid. Aqua was often quiet, watching others and remaining vigil. The few times she spoke were brief, but left an impact.

Vanitas looked to her focused eyes for a second. Marriage was very low on his list of priorities, but she likely would make a good associate. Money went a long way, but connections went further. He turned back to Olette, who curtsied and left to go back to whatever duties she had or check on Void. Ventus’ sudden idolization could be useful as well. What was his could very well become Vanitas’. Terra on the other hand…

Terra laughed and nudged Ventus’ side.

No good. An interesting sparring partner for sure, but that seemed to be the extent of it unless he became some war hero.

When he turned back to the game, Aqua was looking at him expectantly. Their eyes locked and she smiled politely. Vanitas nodded out of courtesy. For now, he’d just play along.

* * *

 

The night before their departure, Vanitas and Ventus stood in the training room. Ventus was sweating lightly as he moved his outstretched arms up and down by the elbow, then in and out.

“This is really-” a deep breath. “Harder than it looks.”

“If you want to have a chance at holding anything heavier than a book then you’ll need it.”

“I…” Ventus stopped.

Vanitas opened his mouth to speak but also heard what caught his attention.

Some sort of commotion was causing heavy thuds of footsteps and the distant buzz of shouting. The two looked to each other and Ventus moved first. Vanitas firmly grasped him by the shoulder before he could reach the door.

“Wait. Put on some night clothes. And wash your face.”

Ventus took a moment to consider his meaning and looked down to himself.

“Right. But- where is it coming from?”

“I don’t know. Just change first.”

Vanitas didn’t bother changing; it was his home after all. He found everyone gathered in the parlor. Aqua in a nightgown covered by a silk robe, Eraqus and Xehanort in their own robes, Braig half dressed in his uniform, and Ventus joining everyone just after Vanitas. Terra lay on one sofa, nursing a wound on his chest with a thick towel. Isa was on the other, face covered with another towel as Braig rifled through a case of medical supplies.

Eraqus looked furious, pacing back and forth with arms behind his back. Aqua sat beside Terra, eyes flickering from his chest to his face.

“What…?” Ventus spoke up.

Xehanort’s eyes slid past him to Vanitas, unreadable. Vanitas said nothing, moving to stand behind the sofa Isa occupied and looking over him. He dressed in loose clothing, as was Terra. It appeared they had been fighting, with actual weapons. Isa, being a former pirate likely wouldn’t back down until he’d drawn blood, and Terra likely had been aching to get his own hits in since the start.

While it was fairly obvious to him, Eraqus answered Ventus’ question with the wrath of an angry father and complete shame.

Who started it remained unanswered.

Isa hissed as the towel was removed, revealing a large X shaped scar. Braig took a cloth with some liquid poured onto it and dabbed the wound, causing him to groan and grit his teeth, swearing loudly. Vanitas held back a grin when Ventus visibly flinched at the language.

“May I?” Aqua asked, looking to Braig. He nudged the medical case to the middle of the table, allowing her to tend to Terra.

Terra didn’t swear, but he groaned all the same.

Vanitas wanted to say “So who won?” but opted for “And the instigator was?”

Everyone was mostly quiet until Terra groaned out “Me.”

Xehanort didn’t look particularly angry, nor pleased. The clack of his cane caught Vanitas’ attention and he turned towards the door.

“Vanitas. Isa is of your employment; therefore this matter is of yours to deal with.”

“Old friend, wait.” Eraqus strode up to Xehanort and bowed at his waist.

“I am your guest and have dishonored your hospitality. History or no, it falls on me.”

Now, Xehanort looked exasperated.

“Raise your head, you are not Terra and cannot speak for all he does. If you have any apologizing to do, do it to the boy.”

A loud swear from Isa resulted in an equal retort from Braig and Ventus covered his ears.

“Vanitas.” Xehanort called. “We have much to discuss come morning.”

The room was left tense as the man walked out.

“So.” Vanitas began. He wanted to get this over with quickly so he could sleep and be rid of everyone as fast as possible. “You cut up my guard _why_?”

Terra was biting his lower lip, avoiding everyone’s eyes by keeping them low.

“I…After our spar, I wanted to fight him one more time.”

“And you thought it’d be best to use actual blades?” Eraqus cut in.

“I wanted to have a real fight.” He argued back, though quietly.

“And you agreed to it?” Vanitas shot to Isa.

Isa chuckled, eyes closed but tilting his face in Vanitas’ direction.

“I thought it’d be fun.” Came his raspy reply.

“First aid isn’t going to cut it.” Braig admitted after placing a clean towel back over the man’s face. “Kinda scary how you managed to slice his face like this.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t -”

Vanitas cut Ventus off with the raise of his hand.

“I can send for a doctor. I’ll cover any expense.” Eraqus offered.

“Are you sure they don’t need to be taken to a hospital?” Aqua said, checking on Terra’s gash from under his own new towel.

“Just a scratch.” Isa’s voice muffled.

“Braig, can you give them stitches?”

The man cringed and wiped his bloodied hands clean with a wet cloth.

“Can I or will I? Because the answer is yes and no.” Eraqus and Ventus’ disapproving glares were ignored as he stood straight, eying the mess in the parlor. “A shallow cut on the arm isn’t someone’s entire face. I’ll go get that doctor, and I take it you’ll be accepting the bill Master Eraqus?”

The older man seemed taken aback at his tone but sighed.

“Yes.”

“Then may I recommend everyone retiring to their rooms? This all has to be cleaned and I will handle all of the medical business.” He finished with a deep bow.

Vanitas rolled his eyes at the display, and turned to the door.

“I bid thee goodnight Master Eraqus, Terra, Ventus, Aqua.” Vanitas flatly recited.


	16. Chapter 16

By morning everyone appeared worse for wear. Xehanort appeared the best of them, having actually slept the most. Vanitas was mostly irate from his lack of usual sleep. Though it wasn’t the incident that kept him on edge, it was a possibility to what could come after.

The crystals.

Isa’s face was covered in an awkward assortment of cross shaped bandages that left him breathing more from his mouth than his nose. If Xehanort’s goal was eternal life, then couldn’t that extend to healing any injuries? It wouldn’t do any good to gain fifty years of life back, and then die from a flesh wound.

Skin could be rejuvenated and put back as it were, not dead or flaking.

In his room the night prior, he’d started writing out theories, hypothesizes, possible steps towards experimentation, and stopped when he hit the dead end of a missing link.

After the series of farewells, apologies, and gushing from Ventus, Vanitas and  Xehanort waited for answers from the mysterious Dr. Facilier.

* * *

 

Olette ran the tips of her fingers through Void’s fur while he rested, curled in her lap. Purring rumbled through the room, adding to the ambient noise of paper fluttering and the shifting of a body against plush seating. Vanitas sat in his office chair, reading about voodoo from a dusty tome and occasionally sipped from a steaming cup of tea. Isa picked at his bandages in another plush chair, extremely irritated with the material on his face. “If you keep doing that, you’ll only irritate it more.” Olette warned.

Isa had a book in his lap that became thoroughly ignored in favor of his picking.

“I’ve been less bothered by maggots.” He grumbled.

“Then put some on your face and spare us the need for making ointment.” Vanitas snapped, forcing his attention back to the texts before him.

He couldn’t believe Xehanort truly believed this sort of ritualism could work, but if he managed to keep his family name afloat for so long by himself, then surely it wasn’t a complete hoax.

“Olette.” He called.

”Yes?”

“Go brew me some coffee.” He was going to need it.

The entirety of his day became dedicated to reading and skimming through book after hoodoo book. There was something uncanny about how close Facilier resembled the deity Samedi, though perhaps it resulted from years of devotion to the craft. Though Vanitas never witnessed any black magic miracle, he would never forget practices of his people and their devotion to the rain and floods.

Below the manor, Vanitas kept notes of his findings and peered at the exaggerated statues, figures, and smoky bottles. Almost all of it was connected to giving and taking life or ailments. The ever creeping suspicion that someone was watching him  set him on edge but he had to remind himself the only one able to get down there would be Xehanort himself.

Piece by piece, Vanitas connected one item to the text, read of its usage, and connected it to his notes on Xehanort’s findings.

Days passed like this. Waiting on any word from Facilier, researching the Nymian people, experiment notes, and after a crawl of two weeks, the famed voodoo man arrived at their doorstep.

“Master Xehanort!” the tall man greeted. “My apologies for the delay. A bit of-uh, internal conflict with the family left me quite indisposed.”

“No matter, we should start immediately.”

Xehanort went inside first, Braig’s offer to take Dr. Facilier’s coat and hat were rejected and Vanitas followed them quietly to the basement.

Isa sat waiting with his legs crossed in a chair in the hall. The bandages had been taken off, but the scar still looked sleek from ointment and raw.

“My my, did ya get in a fight with a bear?” Facilier asked while looming over him, inspecting the scar up close.

Instead of leaning back, Isa sniffed and grinned.

“Now this isn’t fair, my doctor gets to have rum but not me?”

Facilier smirked in turn and pulled a flask from an inner breast pocket.

“Well ya might just need it.”

Xehanort ignored their uncouth display to unlock the door and head down. Vanitas followed last, watching the two chatter like old acquaintances while passing the flask back and forth. Neither got rowdy, so maybe it was alright. But having this as his first close encounter with Facilier, it was slightly worrying.

In the first lab, Vanitas fetched a trolley to gather all the tools they needed. In the dark room, the dark wood table had been moved aside for a medical one. Dr. Facilier expressed his distaste for it, but yielded.

Several of the smaller fragments of crystals were placed in a formation on Isa’s face, and two covered his eyes. Though silent, Vanitas could see his discomfort as the dark man chanted and sung under his breath. Vanitas was sure if he hadn’t had that drink he’d be fidgeting.

Vanitas worked in Xehanort’s stead, applying mixtures of concoctions of his and the older man’s makings on the wound and attaching two electrode pads to his temples.

“Another swig, help you relax a bit more.” Facilier offered, and Isa accepted. “Alright now, this’ll sting a bit.”

The machine beside Xehanort vibrated and hummed to life. Vanitas stood back, grabbing a clipboard and writing down every second.

Isa was calm as he would be as the doctor sang in a deep baritone.

When the crystals began to look bright, Vanitas was shocked still, surprised something was even happening. The machine buzzed and began spilling out a long strip of readings Xehanort took his own notes of.

Heart beating faster, Vanitas watched and wrote as purple sparks flew from the nodes, to Facilier’s finger tips, and coursed across the scar. Isa groaned, hands balling into fists and his teeth gnashed down.

The room seemed alive then, whispers coursed through Vanitas’ ears and he was unable to help but look around. The figures looked like they were moving, as though a foggy illusion draped over them.

Groans louder, Isa opened his mouth in a yell.

Skin and pink flesh healed bit by bit.

Isa’s tolerance for pain waned just as the scar reached a thin line on his features and his eyes flew open, his body jerking upright, and clawing madly at the air. His yells turned to a scream just as he shot up, crystals falling off and nodes yanking off his face. The scar was almost gone and the room watched his face as he looked around wildly.

His eyes were wide, and gold. In his heavy breathing, canine teeth had seemingly grew. It was like looking at a wild animal in human form. On the medical table, he clutched the sides as though they kept him from falling off the earth.

“Well.” Dr. Facilier idly adjusted his tailcoat. “Guess it works.”

“Quite.” Xehanort was smiling, looking Isa head to toe like a fine specimen on display. “I will have to study those side effects.”

Isa was blinking and panting, trying to make sense of the world. Vanitas dared to approach, snapping twice to get his attention.

“How do you feel?”

“I…” he looked to each corner of the room. “I feel fine now. As though nothing happened.”

Vanitas wrote down his response. “Nothing from your eyes?”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

With a casual gait as though he lived there, Dr. Facilier pulled out a mirror from a shelf and held it forward. Isa stared down at himself silently.

* * *

 

 

 

_Journal Entry 63,_

_It worked. Every shred of research, and dumb luck finding a single rock in a jungle. My personal notes have every last bit of the experiment written down, though I want to make copies by my own hand. It’s unfathomable to believe death itself can be a lie. What I saw was beyond what I’ve ever imagined. And there’s living proof of it._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-I know. It's been awhile. But. Oh god. KH3. This note will surely age well. I just wanted to bump this one last time before the game provides something integral to Vanitas' personality that renders it all... void.

The experiments had been set in motion.

Xehanort began personally studying the crystals while Vanitas saw to retrieving test subjects.

With Isa, they rode into the surrounding forest by horse and hunted animals from deer to squirrels. Every other day, the animal would be brought to near death, or at least wounded enough to not put up a fight, and strapped down to be revived.

Eye color change, sharpened teeth, and occasional new streaks of abnormally colored fur were the constant results. Some smaller animals showed increased signs of aggression, and rarely, elongated limbs. Larger beasts exhibited newfound strength, needing to be put down before they could cause real havoc. Isa was watched as well. After a demonstration of lifting a rather heavy dumbbell with ease, increased strength seemed to be a newfound trait the bigger the subject.

However, these were only results from mortal wounds, not age itself.

Xehanort still had enough life left to not die of age overnight, nor eager to kill himself for an experiment that didn’t have a clear percentage of success or failure.

Vanitas wanted to see what would happen. The entire affair shattered his former disbelief. Eager pangs seeped into his bones to see what more the crystals could offer. It was so unlike everything he’d been taught and all his to command one day. Seeing the glow and pulse of the crystals drew him in. Being the one to cut a living thing open and decide if it would live or die, it felt good.

* * *

 

They were forced into a hiatus as Dr. Facilier has business to attend to elsewhere.

Vanitas sat in the back of a carriage, twisting a smaller crystal between his fingers. Isa was across from him, biting his fingernails down to something reasonable and spitting the tops out the window. Another side effect and the only one he found of a real annoyance; hard, claw like nails.

By early evening, they reached the port city and Vanitas adjusted his coat. It was something Isa delivered to him from a source he vaguely divulged. Common clothing felt rough after a new life of silks and velvet, but he blended in as much as he could.

Isa left his claymore, though he was certain he could do just as much damage with his bare hands now if need be.

Together, they departed the wagon further from the main road and traveled on foot to the less reputable side of town. Isa’s hair was tied back, top and long bangs stuffed into a flat cap. Vanitas hadn’t had his spikes trimmed in a long time, forcing him to have them brushed down as low as they would go and pushed into a bowler hat.

No one paid them a second glance as Isa led them through alleys, back streets, and turns Vanitas would have never thought to take.

On the far side of the port, away from trade ships and leisure vessels, the docks were dirty and the fish smell was a lot worse.

“Take your pick.” Isa offered.

Some men stood under a lamp light, talking in a tight group. Another shared a bottle on the steps to a tavern, and in the dimly lit city space, there were sparse people around.  Looking up to the closed windows of the tall buildings, Vanitas could see some lights were on, though most curtains were closed.

“Still rather early.”

Isa huffed a laugh.

“And I’ve pillaged in broad daylight.”

Vanitas sneered at this.

“I’m not a pirate, nor are you any longer.”

“Right, my newfound lord and master. It would be shameful to be caught kidnapping someone.”

“How about that one?” Vanitas jerked his head to a small space between two buildings where an old man chugged from a bottle carelessly. His clothes were filthy, though resembled something a sailor would wear.

The man belched loudly and leaned back against the brick wall.

“If you don’t mind the carriage smelling of filth for a while.”

“Then find a sack to stuff him in. He looks like he’ll pass out soon anyway.”

Isa nodded and they walked from the small street. With all the guards at the estate, Isa seldom patrolled. His free time was either spent reading with Vanitas, or off on his own. It appeared he’d taken trips to the town often with his effortless navigation. Vanitas let his gaze slide and wander just as he did when being driven through the streets.

Potato sack pilfered, they returned to their destination and it was thankfully darker. Just as predicted, the man was fast asleep, hidden in the small space with bottle in hand.

Just to be safe, Vanitas stuck a syringe into his arm and pushed.

Isa was entirely sure of himself as he carried the sack of man under one arm all the way back to the carriage. The driver asked no questions as the load was stuffed in the trunk space and they rode back.

“Woah now, a night out on the town and I wasn’t invited?”

Two sets of gold locked onto Braig as they turned into the hall leading to the basement.

“I was never told I couldn’t go out.” Vanitas responded flatly.

“This is true. But most boys your age try to sneak in a girl or some booze. Not-” he pointed to the still sack under Isa’s arm. “That.”

“Are you trying to stop me?”

“Stop is a strong word. It would be a very unpleasant experience to have a kidnapping scandal under Master Xehanort’s name.”

Vanitas scoffed.

“He was passed out drunk and absolutely filthy. He probably doesn’t have a family or crew to claim him.”

“I’ve told you about growing up before.” At this, Vanitas glared and Braig took two steps forward. “You are still not the king of this castle, nor are you a bloodthirsty pirate. I _really_ think you should reconsider.”

Isa dropped the sack on the floor and stepped between Vanitas and Braig, eyes warning the man not to take another step. Braig was undeterred and smiled wryly. Arms out and posture bent, he kept talking.

“Itching for a fight pirate? Or has living in slavery brought up a lot of pent up blood lust?”

“You’re much too smug for a butler.”

Braig stood straight again with the control of a snake and returned his arms behind his back.

“I don’t see much of a reason to give the utmost courtesy to someone ready to bite my throat out. Nor readily willing to put his charge in the line of fire.”

Before either could retort, he continued.

“There’s a business for this you know. Because you aren’t the only one who’s eager to poke and prod for a little experiment.”

The sack shuffled, catching Vanitas’ eye.

“Last chance. Will you learn something new?”

In a huff, Vanitas untied the sack’s opening and pulled out an arm, shooting it with a spare syringe.

“Isa, take him back. We’ll just have to do things _his_ way.”

* * *

 

Braig’s way turned out to be grave robbery.

Vanitas eyed the three snickering children wearing obscene masks. Braig appeared thoroughly confident the brats could do the job. They met in an even more run down part of town and Vanitas watched as Braig jingled a small pouch of money in one hand, and held out a handful of candy in the other. Vanitas was sure the children weren’t right in the head as they seemed to constantly be on the verge of a laughing fit.

According to Braig, that was only half of what they would get. Vanitas knew the money saved from using child labor, though he didn’t expect it to be this much. The giggling children seemed more than eager to accept.

In the end, Vanitas would have preferred someone older, or dying of an affliction. Several days later found the recently deceased body of a foreigner.

Isa rode through the manor gates early morning with an open wagon and a hard expression.

From the back, he hefted an unsuspecting wood box over his shoulder and walked silently through the door held open by Braig, heading straight for the basement.

Xehanort joined them at the entrance.

Unlike the previous stunt, Vanitas informed him of his intent and was surprised to find how compliant the old man was.

“My joints, they ache. I am tired, and no amount of rest or medication will keep me from withering further.” Had been his reasoning.

Atop the table in Facilier’s room, the box was set on the floor and Isa hefted a young man onto the medical table.

Shocking red hair drew Vanitas’ eyes first, then the single, half lidded green eye dulled by lack of life. There were no preservatives or treatment given, making the decomposition run its course faster. Their masks prevented the worst of the smell. Isa did not wear one, though Vanitas was sure something else was causing his face to look completely rigid.

“Your notes.” Xehanort said.

Vanitas nodded, going to the wood table to retrieve several written pages on Facilier’s rituals. There had been less and less space to move as additional machinery had been rolled in and he temporarily disappeared from view.

“It’s possible to start without him, as long as the chanting is done perfectly.” And Vanitas was not keen on doing it. “Apparently the Loa just seem to favor strong believers. Isa is our best candidate.”

Isa’s eyes snapped to Xehanort, gold meeting gold.

“I have been touched by Falicer’s magics, and have felt the crystal’s power. Some of my crew believed in the deity to which he prays to.”

“I see. Let us begin. I will no longer waste time.” Xehanort nodded to the initial machine and Vanitas set to placing nodes on the young man’s ashen skin stripped nude from cheap dark cotton likely given by whoever buried him. Glove hands worked carefully next to Isa’s bare ones as they covered his body in the necessary oils and crystals. Xehanort moved last, injecting a syringe of glowing blue liquid into where a flowing vein would be.

Despite how frail he looked at times, his confidence was unyielding as he flipped switch after lever and connected cords ending with needles into the man’s body.

“Upon my death, it will be you doing this. Transferring of the soul, rewinding the cruel hands of time, I feel it is soon within our reach. I’ve raised you well to be so tenacious in the pursuit of this study.” Xehanort said, almost happy. In that moment, Vanitas was not sure what to say, though pride flowed through him at the acknowledgement.

He flicked a final switch, causing everything to hum to life.

Vanitas shuffled aside so Isa could stand at the man’s head. Notes at the ready, Vanitas watched over the procedure with surgical attention to detail. If a single muscle twitched anywhere, he would record it.

The practical vibration of magic and inanimate coming to life didn’t drum through Vanitas’ body as with Facilier. Instead he felt as though something was after very different. The abnormal sensation of eyes staring at him wormed though his pores and Vanitas felt his heartrate increase. Lead pooled at his feet and a chill crept up his shins. There was no reason to be afraid, and yet dread seeped up and nagged at his attention.

Isa murmured in a long string, and, already distracted, Vanitas chanced to look his way.

His eyes were glowing.

Unblinking, they appeared glazed over. Vanitas looked to Xehanort then, who looked from the still body and back to the machine.

Vanitas internally stomped down the feeling that there was something inhuman about to bite his head off to focus. The crystals lit up, nearing yellow in hue and acted as a bright light show when fading to orange and back. Like the animal test subjects, markings began to appear. Like soot from a lady’s make up, black lines appeared to draw with an invisible brush over the edges of his eye lids. Two purple markings formed under his eyes.

And then he blinked.

No other part of him moved, but his eyes seemed to gain awareness. Lips parted and closed akin to a fish. In a startling leap, the man jolted up, ripping off needles and nodes.

It was as though he’d re-emerged from the verge of drowning as he coughed and sputtered a red tinted dark substance from his mouth with the consistency of water. It was too thin and dark to be blood. Saliva mixed in, making it dribble from his lips and onto his front.

Isa had not broken out of his trance, still chanting and murmuring.

Xehanort stood wide eyed, paper readings ignored until one of the machines sparked in warning, catching his attention. Vanitas abandoned his notes before the thing could burst into flames and began switching off each one, though he never stopped glancing back at the corpse made live. Xehanort stopped him with a single hand before he could turn off the last.

Vibrant green eyes buzzed with activity as they scanned the room, unseeing.

Room no longer in danger of being reduced to a smoldering ruin, Vanitas was cautious in moving. The only noise now was the dull rumble of the machines shutting down, Isa, and the man’s loud breathing.

“Strap him down.” Xehanort commanded.

Not hesitating further, he briskly pulled leather straps from beneath the medical table and worked on fastening one arm first. His panicked breathing had slowed, but his eyes still stared somewhere unseen. Vanitas worked quickly, pushing him down with surprising ease as a strap was placed over his chest and head.

Xehanort appeared at his side, placing nodes back in their place and looking over the man like a doctor checking someone in their office. Isa had become silent for a single moment which took Vanitas’ attention then.

In a heap, he collapsed.

“Get him out of the way. We have much to see to. After all.” Xehanort laughed and turned to Vanitas. “We can always bring him back.”

* * *

 

As the clamor of the resurrection lowered itself to a rumble, the group had moved. The room was not unlike a prison cell. A single bed surrounded by stone and poorly lit, not a very welcome atmosphere for a guest of a manor. The sheets were thin, and there was a sink and toilet. The man was asleep now, dressed in a thin, cotton shirt and trousers. Bandages wrapped around his arms and exposed feet, places where Xehanort had cut him open for his own investigating.

Xehanort, Vanitas and Isa stood inside the small space, watching him breathe.

“How long will we keep him?” Vanitas asked, breaking the silence.

“That depends on him. If he shows no signs of recovery or becomes a vegetable, then this endeavor was only a partial success, and we put him back in the grave where he belongs.”

At Xehanorts mention of a grave, Isa’s fist clenched slowly. Vanitas spared a glance only to focused back on Xehanort.

“If he’s a functional human being, then he will remain here. Proven that he will not expire spontaneously.” The old man was smiling again. “And who knows, he could be my vessel for youth.”

“Master Vanitas.” Isa breathed.

“What is it?”

“Can I, stay with him?”

Vanitas turned to Isa then. He’d never seen or heard the man so soft spoken.

“What for?”

“I know him.”

Xehanort hummed, addressing Vanitas then.

“It’s about time you got your own key to this place. Braig will deliver you a copy. Isa, you may stay with him. Though you will be locked in as well.”

“That is fine.”

Xehanort turned to walk away, Vanitas followed. Just before the door could shut he heard Isa say “Lea.”

Vanitas stood in front of the basement door with Braig at his side the next day.

His task would be to check the man’s health, who he assumed was named “Lea.”

Braig held a tray with neatly assorted syringes, a bowl of broth and a glass of water. Not a single drop was spilled in the descent down the stairs. Vanitas wondered if Olette would be beside him like this one day.

She seemed too sweet and wholly innocent. Being hired as a servant in a seemingly normal wealthy man’s estate did not often entail working along ex pirates, slaves, and wherever Braig crawled from. As she was now, Vanitas was content with letting her look after Void.

His thoughts drifted to the other girl, Aqua. Though she was closer to a woman than a small girl. Despite her lady like grace, she handled her brother’s wounds without any hesitation of balking at the sight of blood. There was no certainty she’d eventually be won over in Xehanort’s legacy of black magic and experimentation, but she was a better candidate than his maid.

Vanitas opened the cell door to see Isa sitting on the floor by the man’s head, guard jacket beneath him as a makeshift pillow. Even with the dim light from the single bulb above, Vanitas could see that he was tired.

“Has he woken at all?” Vanitas asked, standing over the body.

“Once.” Isa said quietly, then cleared his throat. “I tried to rouse him, all he did was blink and look around. Then he fell back into sleep.”

“So, this guy’s name is Lea?”

Isa’s head perked up at the name and he sighed.

“Yes. Someone I knew from a long, long time ago. Even before I was a pirate.”

“Great of you to reunite with an old friend but, don’t get too attached.” Vanitas watched the rise and fall of Lea’s chest as he went down a checklist of everything he was to record. “He’s comatose now, but we’re not nursing a vegetable.”

One syringe went into a wrist vein, causing Lea to shuffle. Vanitas went still to see if he’d do anything else, he didn’t.

“And you can’t live in our basement either.” Braig said, catching Isa’s narrowed eyes with a grin. “He’s not going anywhere. And so far your friend’s managed a few hours without needing your help. Come see the sun again.”

“I’m fine.”

“I employed you.” Vanitas cut in. “Security’s a lot more efficient when the others have better shifts.”

Isa breathed through his nose as his lips set in a tight line.

“Understood.”

From then on, every other day found Isa in Lea’s cell. Vanitas witnessed Lea open and close his mouth without a sound and blink slowly. He gained the suspicion that Lea was stuck in some sort of limbo of regressing back to death.

His vitals were normal; his body did most of the involuntary work when being fed broth by Braig. The most life Lea exerted was coughing and goosebumps on his skin when being cleaned and taken care of. Braig’s professionalism and care were an abnormality to Vanitas, even more so than bringing the dead back to life.

Vanitas would report his work during dinner, watching Xehanort’s tired face as he listened with almost disinterest.

Lea’s time was winding down even without the words being spoken aloud.

Isa remained devoted to spending all his time in the cell when he could, and Braig did what he had to do with neither pleasure nor annoyance. Vanitas spent more time digging up other tomes to find anything on how to improve the procedure on another corpse. They mixed magic before, adding another deity of death shouldn’t be impossible.

Reports and findings from the ruins were of little help. It annoyed Vanitas that the swell of progress had come to a staggering halt.

Of the multiple papers stacked and spread over his desk, one caught his eye.

A letter from Ventus.

Vanitas turned the thing front and back, taking notice of the fresh, sweet smell. Perfumed paper was the last thing Vanitas expected but he red anyway.

_Dear Vanitas,_

Already he was rolling his eyes.

_I’ve been following your books and wow! I didn’t know I could feel so refreshed and energetic. The others still don’t know, I think I keep them well hidden. I managed to get a sword just like what you let me use too! I keep it hidden under my bed. I felt really bad, going behind the Master’s back like that, but there’s no way he’d let me keep it if he found out._

_Terra’s injury got better. But not without an earful from both the Master and Aqua. I couldn’t yell at him. I felt bad for your guard too, I hope he’s ok. I hope I can visit you again some day, and you’re in my prayers._

Vanitas mock gagged. Instead of tossing the letter, he put it in a drawer. Maybe the scent would make the wood smell nice.

* * *

 

Right before breakfast several days later, Vanitas checked an obituary. They would likely need another body very soon. Facilier remained out of reach, though it made no difference to Vanitas. He was going to find another way with or without him.

The descent to the basement was quiet. In the lab, he took his time preparing a pair of syringes. They would only be wasting time if things remained the way they were.

Muffled noise rose over the roll of the trolley and he paused. Pulse quickening, he fished out the keys to the cell and nearly threw the door open.

Sitting up on the bed was Lea, confused, but sitting up on his own, legs draped over the side. Isa was standing in front of him, eyes reddened and puffy. His head whipped to the door, meeting Vanitas’ gaze. Both looked to the syringes, and then back to Lea.

The man in question blinked slowly, head turning between the two.

“I hope I’m not in any trouble.”

Xehanort looked more alive than when the experiment proved to be a success. Lea was inspected in the crowded cell as Isa stood by the sink, Vanitas closer to the door, Xehanort beside the bed and Braig beside him.

“My name’s Lea. My memory’s kinda hazy, but I’m 25, and I think I’m an acrobat.” He breathed a laugh. “I have some fuzzy recollection of my childhood, and I don’t really remember how I died. But, I know I did. I also remember you, Isa.”

Isa’s eyes softened when his name was quietly spoken.

“You seem to have enough sense about you. Though you must understand, we can’t have an unstable dead man walking the streets.”

Lea looked to Braig with a raised eyebrow.

“Unstable? And hold on, I’ve already told you who I was, who are you?”

“Yes.” Xehanort dragged. “You’ve been in and out of a coma for some time now. And we’ve been aiding your recovery. You may call me Master Xehanort, as you are currently in my mansion.”

“Alright, but why me? I’m not complaining though.” The man chuckled, though it petered off into a concerned sideways glance at the wall.

“You are alive because of my pursuit for knowledge. You may thank my son, Vanitas, for that.”

Lea looked between the two of them.

“Huh, well he’s got your eyes I guess? But- Isa, your eyes…”

Isa’s mouth set in a flat line.

Xehanort rose, standing as tall as he could with his cane. “You will spend another night here. Isa, you may stay with him.”

“Hey wait! Am I your prisoner now? This looks an awful lot like a cell.”

“Allow him to stay with me. My room has plenty of space.” Isa offered.

Vanitas could see the refusal forming on Xehanort’s lips before he even said it.

“It’s not like we don’t have the space.”

The look Xehanort gave Vanitas was full of apathy, though it prompted him to continue.

“He’s alive, and keeping him underground wont extend his longevity.” Or improve Isa’s loyalty. “He’ll be with a guard, and if he causes trouble, Isa will take him down. Won’t you Isa?”

“Without hesitation.” The man in question finished.

Fatigue conquered Xehanort’s patience and he relented.

“See to it then.”

The following month had been a blur of paperwork and reading.

The instructors no longer came by, as Vanitas adopted independent study. He knew how to look something up if he didn’t understand it, and lessons of etiquette were no longer necessary. Instead, Vanitas had to sift through letters from Ventus, respond to journalists, tend to matters of the mansion, research more into bringing back Xehanort’s youth, and watch over their newest resident.

With how busy his life had become, Vanitas spared little more than four hours of sleep- dark circles developing beneath his eyes. He had begun to naturally groom himself to be presentable in the mornings- yet he was beginning to have a rough, haggard look about him. Tailored clothing fit perfectly as always, but it did not hide the way his spikes stuck up at odd angles or how he would give irritable responses to others- only just managing to reel himself in.

Their “guest” appeared more alive than Vanitas despite being actually dead so short a time ago. Lea had nothing to his name anymore, and wore spare clothes Xehanort never threw away. The black gentlemanly clothing was accented with whatever red he could find, though it paled in comparison to his mass of red spikes.

Once again Olette took charge to do talking for Vanitas and the pair got along immediately. Lea had been instructed to never speak of his true nature, thus she welcomed him as Isa’s long lost brother who had been separated in a ship wreck. Out of the kindness of Xehanort’s old heart and appreciation for Isa protecting his son, he was welcomed to their home.

It was so sugary sweet that Vanitas could taste the saccharine, but it worked without question and Vanitas had to hand it to Lea to come up with a story like that on the spot.

Olette and Isa would relay Lea’s day to Vanitas. He was stable, healthy, and didn’t seem to be in any danger of collapsing dead.

Fueled by coffee and partial obsession, Vanitas returned to the animals. Isa was with him, Lea kept in Olette’s care for the duration.

Upon being asked about passing out, Isa admitted he felt as though he hadn’t slept in days and darkness overtook him. It was not a problem during the healing experiments, making it possible that it was tied to bringing life into someone.

Two rabbits lay sedated on a wide metal table used for smaller animals. Vanitas worked quickly in the awkward space inside the cage. The latch above gave him access to maneuver and retreat if the animal seemed like it could run amok.

Xehanort remained in the confines of his room, only showing up for a meal and to have a reason to walk around. Vanitas had no way to tell when he’d simply die in his sleep. It added a pressure to proceeding on his own.

This time, Vanitas would be relying primarily on Isa’s newfound ability. Soul transference was not an act of science. Swapping heads, creating chimera and exchanging body parts were one thing. But they often resulted in deaths on top of infections. Magic seemed cleaner and currently more reliable, as unbelievable as it still seemed.

“Isa. Start.”

“And how will you know if it worked?”

“If the ritual works, then the markings on their fur should transfer to the other. Possibly. Now let’s see what happens.”

Vanitas watched the markings. The crystals lit up, pulsing as Isa went into a trance like state. Murmur of spirits floated, now barely phasing Vanitas as they didn’t seem angry. Like the other experiments, new markings formed on the rabbits and Isa went quiet as they both rustled awake.

“From your expression I take it nothing’s changed.”

Huffing, Vanitas took note of the failure.

“There are other methods. Some would take more time than others. This would be easier on a person but…” Vanitas motioned his head up. “Unfortunately we don’t have a large supply of long lost friends to conveniently die near our doorstep.”

“You plan to use Lea as a vessel then? As a sort of back up?”

“He’s already wearing Xehanort’s clothes so he’s got his foot in the door. Though, I think he could do better.”

“Oh?”

Vanitas took a syringe and lifted a cage lid as he talked.

“Lea looks emaciated and quite frankly, uncouth. Xehanort needs a strong, young body that won’t be mistaken as fresh food for the crows.”

The second lid was opened.

“But this is in the event transferring his soul would even work. We’ve already found magic crystals and sorcery. The Fountain of Youth can’t be that far behind.”

Isa laughed, retrieving the rabbits to be disposed of.

“I suppose you’re right then.”


End file.
